The name slipped effortlessly from his dry lips, evaporating into the cold air of the lobby, yet the echo inside his head only grew more deafening. Mark stood frozen in place, oblivious to the people passing by who brushed against his shoulder. His thoughts were suddenly yanked back in time, piecing together the fragments of a puzzle that seemed impossible to solve.
"Is Celine really the one?"
Mark's shoulders shook slightly as a hollow laugh escaped his throat, along with a well of tears that began to cloud his weary eyes.
The man lowered his head, staring at his palms, now thin but clean then shifted his gaze to his chest, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. This body was now completely healthy. There was no longer any stinging pain holding him back, no organs on the verge of failure.
