Clarity
Eighteen months later, Dr. Carter smiled at my check-up.
“Your heart’s strong, Mr. Thompson. Whatever you’re doing—keep doing it.”
“I’m finally living,” I said.
Outside the hospital, a text from Margaret lit up my phone:
“Dinner tonight? I’m making your favorite pasta.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I replied.
I drove my SUV through the city lights, radio playing softly.
And for the first time in years, my chest felt light.
Forty-seven seconds my heart stopped beating.
But in those forty-seven seconds, I learned how to truly live.
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