LIMBO
JOSH
I was back in the kitchen. The soft glow of the refrigerator light illuminated Laura as she stood there, holding a can of Dr. Pepper. Her hair was mussed from sleep, falling in lazy waves over her shoulders. She looked up at me with those wide, knowing eyes, and before I could stop myself, I was kissing her. My hands were in her hair, her back pressed against the kitchen counter as her breath hitched against my lips.
I didn’t want to stop. I couldn’t.
A soft touch on my shoulder jolted me awake.
My eyes snapped open, and for one disorienting second, I thought I was still in the kitchen with her. The blue eyes staring back at me were too familiar. My chest tightened. “Laura?”
But as the haze of sleep cleared, the details didn’t match. Her face was softer, her blonde hair tied back neatly, not wild and untamed like Laura’s. Her expression was professional but warm, and it hit me like a slap to the face–it wasn’t her.
It wasn’t Laura.
“Sorry to wake you,” the nurse said, her voice soft and apologetic. “You’ve been holding her for a while. I thought you might need a break.”
I blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh hospital lights. My baby girl was cradled in my arms, her tiny body still and
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peaceful. I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep holding her.
The nurse smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I can change her for you, if you’d like?”
I hesitated.
“It’ll only take a minute,” she added, reaching out gently.
I nodded, reluctant but too groggy to argue. “Yeah… okay.”
Carefully, she scooped my daughter into her arms, handling her with practiced ease. My arms felt strangely empty without her.
“I’ll be right back,” the nurse said, her smile lingering before she turned and walked to the changing station near the corner of the room.
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. My pulse was still racing, the phantom feel of Laura’s lips on mine refusing to fade.
The bathroom door was ajar, and I took the opportunity to splash cold water on my face. Leaning over the sink, I stared at my reflection, the water dripping from my chin. My eyes wer bloodshot, shadows darkening the skin beneath them. I barely recognized myself anymore.
“You need to get it together,” I muttered to the man in the mirror.
Taking a deep breath, I dried my face and walked back out into
the room.
The nurse was holding my daughter, her tiny form now dressed in a fresh onesie covered in pastel stars.
LIMBO
288 Vouchers
“She’s all clean,” the nurse said with a smile, gently bouncing her in her arms.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking her back. The moment she was in my arms again, some of the tension eased from my shoulders.
“She’s beautiful,” the nurse said, her gaze lingering on the baby‘ s face. “Have you decided on a name yet?”
I shook my head, tightening my grip on her small body. “No. I’m waiting for Laura to wake up. We’re supposed to choose it together.”
The nurse’s face shifted subtly, her expression softening with what looked like pity. It made my stomach churn.
“We’ll see,” I said, my voice colder than I intended.
She blinked, caught off guard, and opened her mouth like she was about to say something else, but I wasn’t interested.
“Thanks for your help,” I said quickly, stepping past her and back to Laura’s bedside.
My free hand reached for Laura’s fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was warm but unresponsive, and it made my chest ache.
“I’ll let you know if there’s any change,” the nurse offered from behind me, her tone professional again.
I glanced over my shoulder. “You better. Call me the second anything changes. Anything at all”
She nodded.
Without another word, I bent down and pressed a kiss to Laura‘ s forehead. “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered, my lips lingering there for a moment.
Then I straightened, cradling my daughter close, and walked out of the hospital room.
The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights humming faintly, As I approached the exit, I turned back one last time, looking toward Laura’s door.
“She’s going to wake up,” I murmured to myself. “She has to.”
And with that, I stepped out into the cold evening air, holding the baby against my chest like a shield against the world.
