“What are you doing after your break?” The older man ashed his cigarette from the arm of his wheelchair.

The nurse shook her head as she knelt by his side. “Robert, I’ve told you before. You shouldn’t be smoking.” I watched as her eyes followed the ashes as the wind blew them into the nearby foliage: red, pink, and blue little flowers that seemed to be healthy no matter the season. Now, it was a lightly windy summer.

Robert’s forehead was dotted with sweat. It always was, though, even in winter. I didn’t envy the nurse, who had to take him out for fresh air in the hospital gardens.

“I just thought it would be nice if I could take you on a date, is all,” he shrugged, putting the cigarette back to his lips. “Donna is a beautiful name, you know.”

My heart vibrated as the nurse’s eyes flickered to mine and then back to the wheelchair again. “Donna is a beautiful name, Robert. My name is Sarah, though,” she said, pointing to her name tag. Her little white hat rippled feebly in the light breeze.

“You always were so silly, Donna.” I listened from a nearby bench as my father spoke to the nurse, my dead mother’s name on his lips.

In many ways, he was dead as well.