The time
The thing about hospital is the time, and the time is measured in weather. I’m in a tower and the whole vista of the city is spread out beyond the blinds in horizontal stripes. Rain comes and goes, patterns on the glass. Mist comes and goes. Fog. Dark clouds and light clouds. Sheffield is always covered in fog. One day there’s sunshine for a full hour. Flocks of birds circle the roofs of buildings far below. Only crows venture this high, and mark a second with a silhouette across the white sky.
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