From above the opaque plastic mask that oozed oxygen into her lungs, two bowl-shaped brown eyes rolled slowly in my direction, and they smiled at me.
From beneath the standard issue, tissue-paper-thin, patterned gown that posed as a protector to her dignity, a slender, tired hand gently rose, and it waved at me.
From across that distance between us, the silent chasm that stretched for miles and was condensed into atoms, she reached out, and she knew me.
I on my chair, she on her trolley, our connection timeless, tied by life, tied by experience, we exchanged a smile, a wave and hope.
Two people, two lives, unconnected, one corridor, one look, one moment in time.