After being told by the doctor, I found myself going over that one month again and again.
What if it had not happened.
What if I had not been discharged due to the high fever.
Perhaps there would have been no spread.
I knew it was meaningless speculation, and yet I could not stop thinking about it.
Still, when I recall that month, it does not feel like a mistake.
The sound of the guitar I played.
The light from the stand lamp.
There was something there.
Perhaps it was hope.
And for that reason, it felt right.