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The next morning, the blaring alarm forced me awake.
It took me a moment to register where I was, and the realization that I was back on Earth, safe and sound, brought both relief and an odd pang of longing.
I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts, and prepared for work.
The hospital was the same as I remembered, yet everything felt different.
The long, sterile corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, mirroring the daunting passageways of Ikmal prison.
The faint scent of antiseptic and medicine filled my nostrils, but my mind tricked me into detecting hints of the metallic, otherworldly aroma of the prison’s air.
As I made my way to the nurses’ station, I was greeted with cheerful waves and welcoming smiles.
My coworkers had missed me during my unexplained absence, but their understanding faces only deepened the chasm of isolation I felt.
Their laughter, their chatter, their easy camaraderie — it all felt so distant, so out of reach.
Throughout the day, every shout or call for assistance from a patient felt like a cry from a prisoner.
Every time I turned a corner, I half-expected to see one of Ikmal’s guards, their looming figures casting shadows of dread.
But it was all in my mind, remnants of an experience that felt both lifetimes ago and just yesterday.
In the break room, I tried to focus on the conversations around me, to ground myself in the present.
The aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of someone’s lunch.
Yet, even these familiar smells seemed alien, triggering memories of rationed meals in the prison cafeteria, and the bittersweet fruits Ceara and I had shared.
During a brief moment of downtime, I found a secluded corner and allowed myself to sink into memories of Ceara.
His deep voice, his tender touch, the comforting warmth of his embrace.
My heart ached with the thought that I might never see him again, that the memories were all I had left.
Shaking my head, I forced myself back to the present.
This was my life now — Earth, my job, my friends.
Ikmal, Ceara, all of it, was in the past.
But as much as I tried to convince myself that maybe it was all just a dream, a figment of my imagination, a small voice in the back of my mind whispered otherwise.
The day wore on, the weight of my memories bore down on me.
The world around me had resumed its usual rhythm, but I was out of sync, lost in a dance only I could hear.
* * *
The hospital’s clock tower chimed midnight, signaling the end of my grueling night shift.
I slipped out of my nursing scrubs, now stained with the challenges of the evening, and changed into my casual clothes.
The cacophony of a nearby football match, punctuated by cheers and the occasional groan, filled the night air.
The world seemed alive, vibrant, pulsing with the heartbeat of humanity.
Walking down the familiar streets, the well-trodden path I’d taken countless times, I felt a sense of nostalgia.
