Trophies
He can't see.
Everything is pitch black.
"Hang in there!"
A female voice.
What was that? Where did the voice come from?
"We've found him....heart rate.. 20...15...8... We're losing him!"
Male.
Then he couldn't hear anything.
Suddenly, the darkness began to glow brighter and brighter. Then, he saw colors.
Strange saw a marbled ceiling. Where was he? And why was everything so dark a few moments ago? Turning his head to take a look at his surroundings, he winced at the sharp pain that suddenly stabbed his neck.
It soon dawned on him that he suffered an injury and was in a hospital.
"Oh, thank goodness."
The woman sat in a chair across his bed. Strange noticed the piles of cards and candy baskets next to the table.
Christine.
"What happened to me?"
"A car crash. You suffered multiple torn ligaments and severe nerve damage in both hands. You were on the table for 11 hours."
Her eyes were red, probably from crying. She looks so tired and depressed.
The man looked at his hands and suddenly found himself unable to speak. His hands, the part he cherished most. The part that allowed him to be successful. Ruined and destroyed by an accident.
Pathetic.
Suddenly, the trophies on his shelves didn't mean anything anymore.