I was standing in the kitchen trying to make myself breakfast but I didn't know how.

Three years ago, I lost my partner to cancer. She always made me breakfast. Eggs and toast. I tried to concentrate but my mind went to her. The love of my life now lost. It made me cry whenever I thought about her. The memories we had together were the best times of my life. She was the one that made me feel like somebody.  Now I just feel like a nobody. I don't feel safe when she's not near me.

Once again, I can’t focus on my day. I run to the pills and keep swallowing so the pain of her death might go away. And never come back. My mind goes blank.

###

I wake up in the hospital. My head feels groggy. My tongue is thick. I wish I had a toothbrush, but then the ache comes back. The room I’m in. It looks just like the place where my partner died.

I see a kid walk by. He has no hair. He must be battling cancer. All of a sudden, I see her face. He looks just like she might have looked as a child. And he’s alone.

I reach for the button to call for help, but then I see the nurse grab his arm.

“That hurts,” the boy whimpers.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” the nurse snaps. “Three jellos already went missing this morning, and I’m not letting you at another one, you little fatty.”

I see tears stream down the little boy’s cheeks. She hurries him back to his room.

In my bed, my head clearing fast, I remember how kind my partner always was, and I remember all of the nurses who helped us in our trouble. I jump out of my bed. I run down the hallway to the reception desk.

“Hi,” I pant at the bewildered looking hospital workers. “I'm Parker Peterson. I'm 44 years old, and I would like to work here.

They just stood there.