“Hello =D”
“Er…hello…Where am I?”
“You’re in the Waiting Room,” the one on the right answered in the same perky voice.
“The Waiting Room? Woah, you have wings? Does that mean you’re -?”
“Angels? Yep. I’m Michael, that’s Daniel behind me. He’s a trainee.”
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck, have I …am dead. I’ve died haven’t I?”
“Yep. They just lost you on operating table. Pretty messy down there, there’s blood everywhere. The Barrier Between is pretty thin right now so we’re holding you here until we know if we can put you back or not.”
“I…I don’t understand I – …oh god Hugo. Hugo! I was on my way to our anniversary dinner. He’s probably sitting there waiting, he has no idea. Someone needs to-”
Michael interrupted again, “Hugo’s in the hospital’s waiting room. He’s the one that called us actually. It was a pretty big signal, scared Daniel pretty good.”
Daniel hmph’ed, “That was not funny.”
“It was terribly amusing. Oh look, seems like you get to go back. Lucky you! Any questions before you go?”
“You..so you’re telling me that you answered Hugo’s prayers? Prayer actually works?”
“Oh gracious no, it’s love that calls us, love. Bye now, see you in 71 years!”

Dr. Turner polished her glasses on the way to the waiting room. She was wearing a fresh coat. “Is there a Mr. Hugo Evans here?”
“ME! That’s me! I’m Hugo,” a handsome man sulking in the corner dropped the magazine he wasn’t really reading and bolted up right, “Is Jesse alive oh please god tell me he isn’t dead please…”
Dr. Turner sat on the chair next to him, encouraging him to sit back down too, “Mr. Mays survived surgery.”
Hugo sucked in air sharply and covered his mouth as fresh tears cascaded down his face, “Oh god, Jesse…”
“I won’t sugar-coat things for you, Mr. Evans. We lost a pulse on the table but we were able to bring it back. He’s stable and in critical care now, but the next 24 hours are going to be extremely crucial. Statistically those injuries have a near 99% mortality rate, so Mr. Mays has already passed the worst hurdle. He’s very lucky.”
The patient’s boyfriend was speechless with emotion so the doctor let him sob.
Hugo sniffled, “I…don’t feel very lucky right now. I feel very scared. He…can…can I see him?”
She paused, “You can, but to be honest I would not recommend it alone. Can you contact his family? It’s a lot to see alone.”
Mr. Evans wiped his nose on a tissue from a box he found on the sidetable and nodded, “I…I’ll call his mom, she’ll call the rest.” He hiccuped.
Dr. Turner gave him a reassuring pat before noting she’d check in with him soon, then left to check on Mr. May’s status.

An hour later, when Jesse’s mother was sitting besides the wrecked body of her son, a nurse came by to hand her the patient’s belongings in a bag. There wasn’t much – most of his clothing had been cut off by the paramedics and too sodden to save. She rifled through the socks and debris, tears silently sliding down her face. Her fingers bumped something small yet bulky wrapped in an opaque plastic bag and stuffed in a shoe. Curiously, she dug it out and peeked at the contents. Inside, was an indigo velvet box.