Eli found himself in a familiar place.
When the white flash of the blonde woman's aura faded, the hospital's white ceiling came into view.
He was back in his hospital bed.
His arms were thin again. That was the first thing.
He raised his right hand off the blanket and saw the IV taped down at the wrist. His skin was so pale he could see blue lines underneath.
The hospital bracelet was still there. It read: ELI M., 17. Bay 4, Room 312.
It was the same room he had lived in for the last few years. He had changed rooms a few times, but he loved this room the most.
He looked around the room. It was exactly as he had last seen it.
The window blinds were pulled halfway down, just the way he liked them. A paper cup of cold coffee sat on the rolling tray. Coffee-making was one of his interests. Eli used to watch people brew coffee from scratch at home; it made him wish he had the money for the equipment to do it himself.
