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Weekly Contest #237
The machine beeped in the room, a steady, constant rhythm that was easy to miss yet impossible to ignore. The room was almost all white, only the curtains, separating the occupants from the rest of the building, had a modicum of color, ugly polka dots that were an affront to the eyes. Sylus sat in the chair next to the bed, looking down at his intertwined fingers, his hands covered by smooth, black gloves. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked, his voice quiet, desperately insignificant in the small room. Olivia smiled at him, her b...
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