STILL YET, AGAIN.

I remember. I remember waking up to the sight of the ceiling. Listening to the sound of the rotor of the fan as it whirred tirelessly. There’s a grave and unexplainable feeling of emptiness in my head. My mind is coloured like the yellow light bulb that lit the room. It's either my father is sick or I am the sick one. But one thing is certain; I am in a hospital.