One of Us Died at the Birthday

I freeze. Time stretches infinitely in these unexpected and unwelcome quiet moments.

I listen. For what had been a noisy room, there is now a haunting silence in the back right corner.

I observe. For a sterile place, there is a wealth of color… blue masks, blue scrubs, blue gloves, blue drape, blue baby, and so much red blood.

I drift above the lights in the funereal hush as I watch our essence fading away in the slaughterhouse below.

They gather around him hurriedly, worriedly.

Finally, he cries. They rejoice.

I return.

But one of us died that day.