She woke in a sterile, all-white room. It smelled of Lysol and antiseptic. Sitting up in bed, she looked around the room. Her husband, Dan, was sitting in the chair snoozing. His clothes looked rumpled as if he slept in them for many nights and he had about three days beard growth. In the hallway, the hustle and bustle of nurses attending to their duties seemed like a choreographic dance as they moved to keep out of each other’s way.
“Dan, wake up.” There’s no response except for a mumble in his sleep.
Sliding out of bed, she walks to where Dan sits and tries to shake him on his shoulder, but her hand slips through. This surprises her and she almost falls to the floor. She pulls her hand back and looks at it expecting to see the reason why she cannot touch her husband. Behind her, a nurse walks into the room, “Good morning, Holly. Oh, Mr. Nelson, you slept in the chair again.”
Dan stirs from his sleep. Good morning, nurse. How’s Holly?”
“Well, her face has more color today. Her cheeks seem to have a glow to them.” She walked to the bed to check her vital signs for the morning.
Holly turns and follows the nurse with her eyes and sees herself lying in bed. She gasps and looks down the length of her body, “What the hell. How can I be in the bed if I am over here?” She walks to the bed and looks down at herself.