Halfway Home Like almost every night, the nurses were too busy subduing Mr. Ackerman next door to notice Vivienne slipping out. Her half-open silk nightgown flapped as she strode down the cluttered hallway.

Vivienne felt restless. For a place of healing, St. Vincent’s Hospital was far too noisy and filthy; slivers of peeled paint and chunks of drywall lay strewn everywhere. Vivienne couldn’t remember when the place had gotten so untidy. Perhaps it was always like this? Either way, she felt ready to be discharged. If only her husband, Carl, would come and get her. Last time he visited, he promised it wouldn't be long.

"Everything in life is only for a while, Vivienne. Stay strong. We'll see you soon." He kissed her forehead and said goodbye.

The days and months blurred into one messy streak for Vivienne since then. Had it been two or three days since she last saw Carl? Or was it a week? Could it already be a month? It was impossible to tell.

The children were playing upstairs again. Vivienne heard the patter of small feet racing down the pediatric ward hallway. She stood still, listening to their bubbling laughter and wondering whether she should join them. She hadn't seen Clarissa since...

Memories of her husband and daughter were beginning to feel like half-remembered scenes from an old black-and-white movie. The colors, textures, and scents were slowly fading from them. She was starting to forget the timbre of Carl’s voice, the golden sheen in Clarissa’s hazel hair—

She pushed the stairwell door open and flew down the stairs. She needed fresh air. She exited on the ground floor and wandered the empty reception area. Pools of moonlight dotted the tile floor. Vivienne always half-hoped to see Carl and Clarissa waiting there for her. The chances were slim, but still, one could hope.

A bright flashlight beam tore through the darkness and stopped in front of Vivienne. A scream echoed from the other side of the entrance hall, and the beam tumbled to the floor.

"Shhh! She's here!" A man whispered. "Quick! Take a photo!"

There was a noise and a flash, but Vivienne was already halfway up the stairs.

She returned to her floor and watched as nurses dragged a heavily bandaged Mr. Ackerman back to bed. He yelled something about the Allied Forces and that he was needed elsewhere. He tried to smack the nurses away and clutched at the wall crevices, leaving bloodstained handprints everywhere—but they overpowered him, just as they did every night.

Mrs. Greene, a retired schoolteacher, sat in her wheelchair in the hallway, watching the spectacle while knitting a blanket. Her knitting needles clicked rhythmically against each other. She was always on the same row whenever Vivienne saw her.

“Do you think the nurses ever get tired of fighting him?” Vivienne asked.

Mrs. Greene looked up at Vivienne and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They say everything in life is only for a while. Why does this feel like forever?”