La terza notte

The light is yellow, strong enough to keep me awake, not enough for certain noises not to scare me, like this old woman here who breathes through her throat, at least she got over with it.
I’m not worse, my IV arm hurts a little, only the professor said I’ll die.
Three days that I know, and three nights.
My in-laws insist on talking about when Miria will be healed, when Miria returns to the office, when Miria takes the child to school. It is because of the fact that after the heart attack the old man is spared many things.
Luigi cried three days ago, then he said they’ll give me morphine when I can’t take it anymore and he stopped crying. He is relieved, he has shared his pain with me, he has lifted a burden, he has always needed to lean on someone.
My mother, she, even started scolding me, “you have to finish all the meat”, she said, “how long do you think you can go on with only ice cream?”
If I sleep, I still dream of that concrete loculus that closes, then it’s better if I go to the bathroom now. I drag the IV support down the hall, while upstairs, in the maternity ward, the mothers go to breastfeed their babies. Five years ago I was there too, with this same robe on, when the baby was born.
I pee, I rinse my face, and look in the mirror. I don’t have my hair anymore, my head is like a meat egg. I have to remember the Easter egg for my little girl, Luigi may not think about it, he has so many things on his mind. The car insurance, the…