The weight of fragile things-A short story

Dear Reader,

I am both pleased and honored to bring you my first short story, a journey crafted with care and passion. As you turn these pages, I hope you find yourself immersed in a narrative that leaves a lasting impression and stirs a sense of wonder about our shared human experience.

Copyright ©Moses Kuria 2024

This book, including all its contents, is protected by copyright law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

The weight of fragile things-A short story

   Jude sat in the expensive leather chair at the therapist’s reception. He had come a little earlier than usual because there wasn’t heavy traffic towards the office like most days.He was always ten or fifteen minutes late for his appointment but would get away with it easily because he was a regular client.

 The bright lights lit the room, while the hum of the air conditioner contributed to the stillness. Anne, the receptionist, sat busy at her desk. All that could be seen of her by Jude was the upper side of her head; she was totally focused on the computer,typing and making schedules while other times just scrolling through social media.

 Their lounge had a large wall-mounted flat-screen television that was usually playing business news, or silent with subtitles. Today, though, it was louder than normal—the volume turned up to draw their attention to whatever was happening. 

 Jude looked up at the screen when the host’s voice—a tense, urgent slice through the background noise of the office—reached him. It showed a studio much like one would see for business news, except it was a serious-looking studio and had scrolling red alerts at the bottom. 

 The host, a woman with striking features and an even more striking voice, spoke with a seriousness that seemed oddly out of place in the otherwise plain surroundings. The latest development on the virus outbreak: It has now spread to many areas, originally thought to be a localized problem. Confirming a big jump in the cases within the last day, health experts say. The government is planning to put out a Level 3 travel warning, and local officials are preparing for a possible increase in patients in hospitals.

 Anne stood up and reduced the volume . The words “possible apocalypse” continued bouncing in Jude’s mind like a pinball as the screen held his full attention.

 “This doesn’t seem that serious, “Anne commented with her voice,  calm and reassuring.”Why do they just put it on TV and leave it there?Someone seriously should show up and tell us what’s going on if it’s actually serious,” she continued.

 Jude barely heard her words. His mind was racing with scenes of an overrun world. How would he react if the apocalypse really came? He pictured himself dodging through zombies with empty cars and heaps of barricades lining up the streets. His lips quirked. After all, he had his bike parked outside, and with that, he would definitely outrun anyone if there was an apocalypse.

 Anne glanced at him, puzzled by his lack of reaction to the news .It wasn’t the first time she noticed how he disappears into a realm that only he can get himself out of when he sits at the reception.She kept her composure,as she had learned to do while working in that office.“Everything okay, Jude?”

 “Wha’? Uh, yeah. Just. thinking,” he said, shaking back into reality. His thoughts swirled in a familiar whirlpool of what-ifs and fantastical setups. He always found himself daydreaming about the most absurd situations, but his wild thoughts started to rotate around the possibility of an apocalypse ever since he watched a teenage dystopian movie. It was his way of escaping the ordinariness of everyday life.

 “What if the virus turns people into zombies?” he thought, eyes widening as the scenario unfolded in his mind. “The first few days or weeks the zombies will be running faster than human beings before they start slowing down in a few months or maybe years.What if they actually don’t slow down and be real zombies? What if they actually keep being those crazy ones that run after you all over?” He chuckled to himself, imagining the world turning into a bizarre comic book that would later become a Hollywood blockbuster movie. 

 The TV channel suddenly popped up an information bar ,describing symptoms of the virus and a few safety measures, but Jude’s mind was already off on another tangent. If he had to pack as quickly as he could,what would he pick?Food, water, he would most likely need some first aid supplies.If he gets injured along the way.A baseball bat would also be a good idea.It’s always a good idea in such scenarios—because who knows when you might meet a zombie and need to bash the skull in.

 He thought of his apartment, running mental routes of escape. There was a fire escape outside of his bedroom window and the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. He could use the back alleys and take his bike to avoid fallen traffic jams of panicked people. He pictured himself furiously pedaling through empty streets with the wind whipping his hair, while zombies stumbled along in his wake.

 “At least I’ve got my bike, you know,” he muttered under his breath, and his eyes twinkled with some little mischief.

 Anne raised an eyebrow. “A bike, huh? Well, you’d best keep it in good nick then.”

 “Yeah, fair point,” said Jude, still half-lost in his thoughts, having nearly envisioned himself as a solitary crusader with his trusty two-wheeled baby whizzing through the city—the makeshift hero in a rogue world.

 The daydream was suddenly cut short with a new realization. “Wait, what if the bug’s in the air? I should get a mask. No, lots of masks. And gloves. And maybe one of those hazmat suits…” His mind started racing, each idea more ridiculous than the last. 

 “He will see you now,” Anne said, her voice breaking through his reverie.

 Jude stood up, heavily settling back into reality. The thought of the virus lingered in his head, with so many wild scenarios that kept him from drowning in anxiety. He had one last glance at the TV then started his walk to the therapist’s office.His thoughts were chaotic and worried, 

mixed with bizarre fantasies.

 As he walked, he couldn’t help but think that if the apocalypse did come, he’d be ready. Or at least, he’d have his bike. And sometimes, that was enough.

  He left the therapist’s office and headed towards the parking lot,  still buzzed with the news of the virus. He put on his helmet and sat on the bike then put the key in. He then held the bike as if he was riding it through the street,though both his feet were on the ground. 

  A question nagged at him: what kind of person actually foresees the end of the world?

 “Am I a good person for thinking about a possible apocalypse?” he pondered, shaking his head. “You automatically assume “flu” the moment you hear the word “virus,” not ‘zombies’ ,do you? Or buildings covered with plants and just a few remaining humans trying to survive the new world.”

  He glanced around the parking lot, half-expecting to see someone sprinting to their car with a cart full of shopping because they are sure they won’t be out of the house until it’s safe. But the parking lot looked as ordinary as ever—no zombies, no chaos, nothing. 

  “Seriously, Jude, who does that?” he muttered to himself as he hit the button for the electric starter. “I mean, who plans escape routes from an imaginary apocalypse?”

  He lifted his right leg and put it on the back break, laughing a little at his own absurdity. “At least I’ve got a great imagination ,right?  It can be worse.At least I’m not like those who still think that the whole moon landing thing was faked, you know .”

  As he rode away, he couldn’t help but question why his brain was always going to the most dramatic conclusions. Was this his way of managing stress? Or was he, in truth, looking for an adventure.

  “Guess I’ll never know,” he thought, “But if it actually happens and everything falls apart, at least I have a head start.I won’t have to absorb too much at once”.

  Jude switched on his motorcycle, feeling the potent hum as it shivered through his fully-armored body. The helmet’s visor covered his eyes, putting him in a different dimension from the outer world. He took the road and tried to concentrate, but his mind kept swinging wildly.

  “Concentrate, Jude, concentrate,” he spoke to himself, feeling the pull of common ejection. As he started picking up speed, reality crept back in. What if he lost concentration, got too caught up in his fantasies, and had a serious accident? The thought gnawed at him, always lurking in the back of his mind whenever he was on the road. 

  There were times where he imagined himself skidding across the pavement, the bike laying beside him, the world a blur of pain and chaos.

  “Stay tight , my friend. Life isn’t a comic book,” he reminded himself, gripping the handlebars tighter.

  While his life wasn’t anything near a comic book setting, there was always that feeling of floating through life.He never felt connected to the world. It was as if he was watching everything from behind a screen, half-participating and half-observing.

  He passed a woman pushing a stroller on the sidewalk and felt a stroke of guilt. Here he was, imagining zombie apocalypses, while real people could be in real danger. He shook his head, frustrated with himself.But he could not stop himself from imagining.

  The rhythm of the motorcycle, the steady roar of its engine, the rush of wind against his body—every one of them was somehow a curse and a comfort at the same time.Riding scared him; it was an act where he was not fully in control of everything as much as he looked like he was on the outside. Still, it gave him a sense of freedom: he could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted and escape whatever—at least in his head.

   “Alright, my friend, keep it together. Keep your eyes on the road, hands on the bars,don’t even think of letting go,” he coached himself. He was hand-gliding through the streets like a ninja, his mind elsewhere fighting off zombies and tussling with existential crises. It was ridiculous, but it was him. And in a weird way, comforting.

   As he rode on, he decided to cut himself some slack. He was trying his best, even if his best involved a lot of daydreaming and a bit of fear. He might not take the virus announcement seriously now, but deep down, he knew he cared. 

   For now, he’d focus on getting home in one piece, avoiding both zombies and real-life dangers. And maybe, just maybe, he’d start taking things a bit more seriously.

   Weaving through an intersection a bit far from the busy streets, Jude leaned into the sharp turn as city sounds blurred around him and his motorcycle. His thoughts were all here and there, a familiar blend of worries and somewhat absurd scenarios that often consumed him. 

   Coming into view up ahead was a woman, carefully pushing a stroller across the street.For a moment, doubt crept into Jude’s mind. Should he hit the brake? The intersection was clear; he made the choice to make the turn. He was sure he could negotiate the curve without a problem. 

   Then it happened. As he tipped into the curve, he gripped the handlebars tighter, but something wasn’t right. A flash of panic hit him as he finally realized he wasn’t braking.

   “Oh crap,” he gasped, his pulse quickening.  He squeezed the lever instinctively on the brakes again. It was hopeless. His heart pounded even harder as he realized he was going way too fast to stop in time. He was about to run over the woman and her baby stroller.

   The motorcycle  closed on her,the world suddenly seeming to slow down for Jude. The woman turned towards the oncoming sound of the engine with horror-widened eyes. Jude’s mind shrieked with horror as he was unable to do anything to stop the approaching collision.

   The front tire skidded along the pavement a second before impact, and Jude’s body struck the woman with what felt like bone-bending force. They both crashed to the ground in a chaotic tangle of metal and limbs as the stroller toppled over, spilling its sad cargo all over with a heartbreaking clutter.

  Pain racked Jude’s body as he wrestled his mind with what had happened subsequent to this momentary lapse in his concentration. He rose to his feet, shaking, and he was hit immensely by a flood of guilt and remorse. He was hurt on his knee and his left shoulder but was saved from too many injuries by his riding gear.

  “Hey? Ma’am, can you hear me?” he choked out, dropping to his knees beside her. Her eyes were closed, her face pale and drawn. Jude’s hands hovered over her, unsure where to touch, what to do.

   As if she sensed his presence, the woman’s eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes, filled with pain and confusion, met his.

   He checked her for any open wounds, and then his eyes rested on her abdomen. Her shirt was ripped, and it showed a rounded belly.

   “Are you… are you pregnant?” he stuttered with his voice shaking a little bit.Only one tear rolled over her cheek as she nodded with little strength.

   A wave of nausea washed over Jude. He had just hit a pregnant woman. What a vile realization, like a gut punch—a rising bile in his throat as he got visual images of the accident: her stepping off the curb, his frantic attempt to swerve, the sickening thud of impact

   The thoughts of self-blame and regret overwhelmed his mind. He hated causing damage, most of all to the innocent. He simply could not bear the thought of hurting someone, yet now, in a moment of distraction, he had.

   “I didn’t mean to,” Jude whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m so sorry.” The scenario in front of him blurred with tears and anguish as he awaited help, knowing deep down that his distracted mind did this.

  As Jude knelt beside the woman, his hands shaking with panic and guilt, a car squealed to a stop alongside them. A middle-aged man in a checked shirt, worried expression, hustled out. “Oh my God, what happened here?” he asked, flicking his eyes from Jude to the woman lying on the ground.

  Jude’s voice snagged in his throat. “I. didn’t see her. My brakes.they failed,” he managed to stammer out, his eyes riveted on the woman’s pale face.

   The man nodded brusquely, his eyes taking in the situation. “Let’s get her into my car. We’ve got to get her to the hospital fast,” he said, carefully dropping down beside the woman. “Can you stand?” he asked the woman as gently as possible.

   “I. I think so,” she gasped, the agony in her voice clear. “Just help me up.”

  Jude and the man gently pulled her up while she tried to do her bit by putting in the effort to get on her feet. She relied heavily on both of them, her face distorted with agony. “Thank you,” she whispered, her breath coming in short gasps.

 Once she was propped up in the seat at the back, Jude hovered anxiously around her.He had already left the bike to a shop nearby and called his mechanic to quickly go there . “We’re taking you to the hospital. Hang in there,” he said to her in a husky voice, his voice sounded heavy with emotions.

  The woman nodded limply; her eyes were closed against the pain. “I need to get to the hospital. quickly,” she managed to murmur, her words punctuated by sharp intakes of breath.

   Jude glanced at the man, a silent plea for reassurance in his eyes. “Is there someone we can call for you? Family or.?” he started to ask but the woman shook her head, her expression tight with pain.

   “Just. hospital,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “Please.”

   He nodded in understanding, furrows in his brow deep with concern. “Don’t you worry, we’re on our way,” he said firmly, pulling away with the car. 

  They drove to the hospital at high speed, Jude sitting behind with fists in his lap, reeling with shock and guilt. Reality had come crashing down on him like a wave, sweeping away those earlier fantasies and leaving him raw and exposed.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered, even as his voice could have easily gotten lost in the beat of the engine.

  The woman beside him groaned softly, her face still drawn with pain. “It’s. not your fault,” she was able to mutter, as if whispering, and her voice was weak but sincere.

  Jude swallowed hard, his eyes burning. “I should have been more careful,” he croaked, his voice full of self-condemnation. “I should have.”

 The man took a position behind the wheel and looked at Jude through the rear-view mirror with so much sympathy, “It was just an accident,” he soothed in a soft voice, needing to comfort the kid who was under his care, “the imperative thing now is to make sure she gets to the hospital.”

 Jude nodded his head, not saying much since his mind was a turmoil of guilt and anxiety, always remembering just how the woman lay there on the ground in blood-stained rags, labored breathing, the consequences of his mind always at the forefront.

 As they neared the hospital, Jude’s heart was pounding in his chest. The weight of it all settled upon him like a heavy burden, one which he would have to bear far beyond when the flesh had long since healed.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

  The woman beside him squeezed his hand feebly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment. “Thank you. for helping,” she murmured, her voice fading as consciousness slipped away.

 As they whizzed off to the hospital in the back seat of the man’s car, Jude sat stunned. A little moan from the woman beside him, her hand clutching at her stomach, sounded full of agony. Outside, the world just seemed to blur past in a frantic rush of lights and shadows.

  A few minutes ago he had been in therapy talking about his daily struggles and his heavy-laden imagination. Now, here he was racing in an ambulance to a hospital in the thick of a real situation.

 Jude looked out the window; the familiar sights of the railway station flashed by in a blur. He had been around for years, inhaling the environment of predictability about all the schedules and routines. Now, in the backseat of a stranger’s car, everything felt incredibly surreal and out of control.

  “How did this happen so fast?” Jude wondered, his voice barely audible. The woman beside him winced, catching breaths in pained intervals. A pang of guilt hit him, knowing how his careless thoughts could never prepare him for the raw, unpredictable reality in the moment.

 Imagination raced through his mind in disbelief: not more than ten minutes ago, he had pictured this scenario as the end of days, how he would cope with the chaos and catastrophe. That seemed such a trivial fantasy compared to the situation unfolding beside him.

  “This is real,” Jude murmured to himself as he fought to wrap his head around the moment. His heart raced in his chest, pulsing urgency into their race against time. The second look at the lady whose face contorted in agony brought helplessness back into his being.

 As they screeched into the hospital driveway, Jude’s thoughts continued to swirl in an absurd mix of disbelief and unease. Instinctively, medics and clinicians immediately burst into action swiftly extracting  the woman from the car, their urgent movements a stark contrast to the chaos Jude felt within.

  He stepped out of the car, his legs unsteady beneath him. He followed silently behind the medical team, his mind still grappling with the abrupt shift from imagination to stark reality.

  Inside the hospital, he stood in the corridor, the antiseptic scent mingling with the tension that gripped his chest. Nurses hurried past him, their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor. He glanced towards the entrance, where paramedics wheeled the woman through double doors marked “Emergency.”

  A nurse approached Jude, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos around them. “Are you family?” she asked gently, her eyes scanning him with concern.

  Jude hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “No, I… I found her,” he managed, his voice wavering slightly. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of place in this realm of urgent efficiency.

  “I’ll need you to fill out some paperwork,” the nurse said, guiding him towards a small desk cluttered with forms. She handed him a clipboard and pointed to a line where he should sign. “Just here, please.”

  As Jude scribbled his name, his mind raced with worry for the woman he had inadvertently injured. Each pen stroke felt heavy with the weight of responsibility and guilt. He glanced up, catching glimpses of medical professionals bustling in and out of rooms, their urgent whispers a constant hum in the background.

  Once he finished, Jude returned the clipboard to the nurse, who offered him a sympathetic smile. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a reassurance amidst the overwhelming atmosphere. “She’ll be fine.”

  Jude nodded silently then went to a seat in the nearby waiting area, sinking into the uncomfortable plastic chair. The minutes stretched into eternity as he watched the digital clock on the wall tick away.

 Around him, other patients and their loved ones waited in varying degrees of anxiety and hope. Phones buzzed softly, voices murmured in hushed tones, and the steady beep of monitors provided a backdrop to his restless thoughts.

 He rubbed his temples, trying to push away the images of the accident and the woman’s pained expression. His mind replayed their brief interaction in the car, her words and his own guilt swirling together into a tumultuous whirlpool of emotions.

 Time seemed to blur out as Jude sat lost in thought, wrestling with the aftermath of what had happened and what was yet to come. The hospital seemed to hum to its own beat, a symphony of urgency and healing that enveloped him in its quiet chaos.

 Jude’s heart leaped into his throat when the doctor finally managed to make it through the doorway after a whole hour .Jude rose quickly to his feet, with a mind whirring with apprehension and self-guilt.

 The doctor, with an extremely calm voice but bursting with concern,said, “Mr. Jude, I’ve just done a checkup on the lady you brought in. She’s stable, that’s good, but she has some serious injuries.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly with anxiety.

 The doctor nodded slowly, his expression softening somewhat. “She’s holding on physically. She has fractures in both legs, and slightly in her collarbone. We will have to operate to stabilize the injuries.”

 Jude let out a shaky breath as relief mixed with a gnawing dread. “And the baby?” he dared to ask, eyes pleading for further reassurance.

  “The baby seems fine.We will, of course, closely monitor  for any sign of some distress or complication.”

 Jude sank down into his chair. He had feared the very worst, yet the doctor’s words brought with them a thin line of hope amidst the wreckage.

 “There’s more, though,” Dr. Patel continued with all seriousness. “She’s also demonstrating symptoms matching the virus that’s been reported.”

  Jude’s eyes widened, an alarmed look on his face. “The virus?” he echoed in a sort of daze, his mind already stretching and worrying over the issue of its consequences.

 “We are taking precautions,” Dr. Patel reassured him, his voice easy despite the hard news. “She’ll have to be tested, but anyway, we’re isolating her as a precaution.”

 Jude nodded numbly, feeling more guilty and concerned by the moment. He had inadvertently dragged this woman into a double crisis; first an accident, and now the impending danger of a possible viral outbreak.

 Jude nodded slowly, unspoken emotions constricting his throat. He was overwhelmed, wrapped around a feeling of guilt and helplessness in a mortal vortex. The sterile hospital surroundings seemed to close in around him, amplifying his sense of isolation.

  He fumbled his phone in his pocket, his fingers shaking, while dialing his mother’s number. Each tone rang louder in the sterile hospital corridor, a contrast to the confusion swirling in his mind.

 “Hello?” His mother’s voice crackled through the receiver  with concern.

 “Mom, it’s me,” Jude started, his voice shaking. “I. there’s been an accident.”

 “An accident?” Her tone sharpened with worry. “What happened, Jude? Are you okay?”

 “It’s not me,” Jude hurriedly explained, his thoughts scattering like marbles on a polished floor. “I. I was with someone, and she. she’s hurt.”

 Then there was a pause on the line, the silence weighty with questions.

 “And she’s hurt?” Panic was beginning to creep back into his mother’s voice. “Jude, where the hell are you? What the hell’s going on?”

 “I’m at the hospital.” Jude was quick, his words tumbling out one after the other in a rush. “They’re taking care of her, but—”

 “But what, Jude? What happened?” Her voice had tightened, a bit of frustration coming in.

 Words eluded Jude again; his thoughts spun into a fog of guilt and confusion. “I hit her,” he finally said, dropping his eyes when he finished. “I didn’t mean to.”

  His mother sighed—a sigh crackling with disappointment and worry. “Jude, you need to be more careful,” heaped reproach into her voice. “Especially now, with everything going on.”

 Jude’s heart sank. He knew what was coming next: the lecture, the scolding that he had heard too many times before.

 “I know, Mom,” he answered quietly. His eyes seemed to burn into the floor of the hospital as if it held the answers he was looking for. “I just… I needed to help her .”

  “Help?” Her voice rose with disbelief, mingling with exasperation. “Help who, Jude? What was going through your mind, to go out like that? There’s a virus out there killing people…”

 “I know, Mom,” Jude broke in, frustration making his voice crack. “But I couldn’t just… I couldn’t just leave her there.”

 His mother sighed again, the sound heavy with resignation. “You need to think about yourself, Jude,” she insisted, softer now and tinged with worry. “You need to stay safe.”

 “I will, Mom,” Jude promised, his words earnest but tinged with doubt. “I’ll be careful.”

 There was a moment of silence on the line; a moment full of tension and unspoken words.

 “Someone in our neighborhood just died from the virus,” his mother’s low voice quivered. “It’s getting worse.”

 Jude’s heart plummeted. His old friend Guilt gnawed at him, as it usually did at moments of crisis. He wanted to explain, to tell her about the woman in the hospital bed, but his mother’s voice pressed on, commanding the conversation.

 “You need to be careful, Jude. And stop going to see that therapist of yours. It’s not safe right now.”

  “Yeah,” Jude murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of hospital activity. “I’ll.I’ll be careful, Mom.” He hung up then immediately called his mechanic . He assured him that the bike wasn’t extremely broken and would only need simple fixes .The mechanic promised to fix it as soon as possible and take the bike to the hospital.Jude had to pay the mechanix an extra amount for it.

  His head was full of whirling thoughts, and the images from the day flashed through his mind, but not in a logical order at all. Therapy, television announcement, virus, accident—trying to piece it all together was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. His chest tightened; he couldn’t focus.

 Over and over, he played back the words of Dr. Patel in his head, but they simply seemed like a radio set in the wrong frequency. “Fractures in both legs… slight break for her collarbone… surgery to stabilize…,” and Jude could only squeeze his eyes shut as though this might all make better sense. His fingers tapped into a wild, erratic rhythm on the armrest of his chair, as if trying to ground himself, but found it futile.

 So well-composed she was, whoever she could have been, even as she lay broken on the street. Now, somewhere behind those swinging doors, she faced not only the injuries she had suffered but the virus that was spreading in her body.

 His mind unraveled with visions of dystopian futures, all bleaker than the previous one. The hospital was a kind of quarantine zone to him, an introduction to understanding the breakdown of society as he knew it. Every sound started to blend, turning into a symphony of chaos: beeps of machines, whispers of voices around him, increasing his disquiet.

 He tried to replay in his mind what had happened, how things had gone so suddenly and badly wrong. His thoughts were jumping around from one concern to another, not resting long enough to give him any kind of focus. Every time he thought he saw a clear picture, it would elude him, replaced by another disjointed memory or another spike of panic.

  It was impossible for him not to think that he was experiencing the absolute beginning of some kind of apocalypse – his worst fears coming to life – in fact, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head that maybe he was infected as well; all the time, it may be unconsciously or consciously; however, the same idea worked on his mind as slowly as poison. Every person who passed by him, he began to think, was infected; maybe he was doomed already.

  Jude struggled to remember all the safety protocols he had heard of: wash your hands, wear a mask, avoid contact. So here he was, in a hospital with possible carriers all around him. Anxiety clawing at his chest made it hard to breathe. He was desperate for some action, any action, that he could carry out to feel in control again, but he just couldn’t think.

  He turned his mind to the details around him: the pattern of the floor tiles, the antiseptic smell, the cry of a child somewhere in the distance. But his thoughts wandered back to the accident, her injuries, and the virus. He could almost see her, prone in a hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines.

 Glancing around the room, Jude saw the other patients—some with masks on—sitting with hunched shoulders and anxious expressions. The air felt heavy with uncertainty and the pervasive scent of disinfectant. It reminded him of news reports he had seen, describing crowded hospitals and overwhelmed medical staff during the peak of the pandemic.

 With the weight of the now realistic pandemic weighing him down,he had to make a decision.He needed to get back to his house; to safety-as far away from that hospital and the virus. But every time he wanted to walk out of the door, he was being stabbed with the knife of conscience. How could he leave a woman whom he had inflicted harm on, albeit unintentionally? How could he turn his back on her at the exact moment that she needed him most?

 The reception area was busy: nurses walking fast exchanging murmurs about the latest cases, the treatment plans for in-patients and more concerns Jude’s eyes flickered around this marsh of masked faces and scurrying footsteps, which echoed off the tiled floor. And every moment only served to heighten inner turmoil. 

  A nurse broke into all his tumultuous thoughts. Masked, her face throttled up with a face shield, her eyes set the tone—urgent, yet reassuring. “Mr. Jude?” she called softly.

  Jude looked up at his feet, his heart thudding in his chest. “Yes?” he answered, his voice taut with anxiety.

“First of all,take these masks and cover yourself.It’s spreading too fast.Anyway, the surgery has gone well.The doctor is handling something else and sent me to inform you,” her words sounded like a rescue boat in the middle of a storm. “She’s stable now, but she needs time to recover.”

  Relief washed over Jude in a wave that broke on the shore; it momentarily silenced the raw nerves. Nodding, he felt grateful mixed up with the worry that had become part of his life by now. “Can I see her?” he then whispered, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, the visiting hours are restricted with what is going on,” she explained gently. “But you can either sit and wait here, or I can take you to a private area to discuss her condition.”

  Jude nodded again, torn between wanting to hear more, and wanting to save himself from hearing more.

  In that moment, the need settled heavily upon him: the woman needed someone to support her during her recovery—someone to stay beside her in this time of uncertainty. It also meant, of course, staying on in an environment quite possibly doomed.

  The decision on his mind wasn’t just going to change everything for him, but hers as well—that woman lying there, vulnerable on the hospital bed. While he kept wrestling with his warring emotions, inside these walls, the dimension of time never stopped fighting an invisible opponent, the beeping heart monitor counting down each decision, its high stakes echoing in its sound.

 Another hour went by and the nurse came back again ,finding Jude in his mask completely in his mind. She took Jude to see the woman,along the corridor assuring him that even though she’s infected, he could still see her so long as he stays at the door of her room , a distance from her , and keeps his mask on.

 The woman lay upon the bed, her face pale but calmed and serenic, with a slight sheen of perspiration dotting her forehead, though her eyes expressed a whirlwind of unuttered pain and strength. Jude stood at the door, his mind a muddle of chaos.

 He started lamely, “Hi,” barely above a whisper.

 Slowly, she turned her head toward him—curiosity mixed with weariness in her eyes. “Hi,” she said, trying to strike some balance in her tone between being wary and kind.

  “I…I wanted to see you, you know, I mean, how you were doing,” Jude stammered, his fingers fidgeting against the edges of his jacket. “I, ah, paid for your surgery.”

  A flicker of surprise passed through her and it softened her features. “Thank you,” she said in a low voice, her gratitude evident. “But you shouldn’t have.”

  He shifted uncomfortably at his place, feeling the weight of his own inadequacy. “I felt I had to do it for you, you know, after what happened… “

  The woman sighed, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. ” The reason I didn’t want anyone to know about the accident,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “is because I don’t have anyone who needs to be told. When I got pregnant, I ran away from my hometown. My parents disowned me, and I cut all communication. I decided to take care of myself and my child. My partner abandoned me too. I’m all I have.”

  Jude felt a pang of empathy. He wanted to reach out, offer some kind word or something, but he hesitated, feeling the sting of his own fears and insecurities. “I’m sorry,” he was able to manage, feeling the inadequacy of his words.

  She gave him a sad smile, tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve learned how to be strong on my own.’’

  Jude’s mind  was in a tug of war with other thoughts. He knew he should stay, offer more support, but the virus and survival instincts only strung him away. “I’ll come to see you tomorrow,” he said, forcing a smile he didn’t feel.

 She turned to him with a trace of hope in her eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

 Guilt began eating at him as he left the room. Deep in his heart, he knew he was never going to come back. The thought of the apocalypse lay heavy on his mind. He had to stay away and protect himself .As he left the room, he felt the pain of abandoning her at the hospital , gassing himself up with the fact that he had actually taken responsibility for the accident and even paid for her surgery with his entire savings.

 He walked to the parking lot where his motorcycle had been parked by his mechanic. Fear and resolve made his heart pound in unison. His mind was muddled with the woman’s story, his fears, and scenes of the apocalypse—pooling and playing in his head all this time. He felt guilty but told himself that he had done enough, considering his limitations.

 As he checked his bike, he realized that it was not the brakes which had failed but his own forgetfulness. He had forgotten to put brake fluid in.The mechanic was right.He condemned himself, vowing to take therapy more seriously, even though he doubted his ability to concentrate or remember.

 He put his helmet on and removed it immediately.He felt dizzy ,his head striking with pain.He sat on the bike just as he had sat on it hours ago at the parking lot .His hands were suddenly wet ,his body temperature getting high.He felt nauseated ,so much that he could not press the starter button .His mind raced with the realization; he had the virus.

 He stood there, consumed by feelings of fear, guilt, and determination. Here, in the midst of a world he once daydreamed about, was reality—and it was far from what he had expected.