The hospital smelled the same.
Leo hated that.
The sharp scent of disinfectant hit him the moment the automatic doors opened, and suddenly he was back to months of appointments, test results, waiting rooms, medication schedules, and hopeful conversations whispered late at night.
Only this time there was no hope waiting at the end of the hallway.
Just paperwork.
Signatures.
Questions.
A body.
Leo sat in a plastic chair outside a small office while someone explained procedures.
He heard every word.
None of it stayed.
Beside him, Alex answered most of the questions.
Death certificates.
Dates.
Identification.
Funeral arrangements.
Transportation.
Things Leo should have been handling himself.
Instead he stared at a stain on the floor and wondered how the world could keep moving when his mother wasn't in it anymore.
"Leo."
His name sounded far away.
Alex touched his shoulder gently.
"They need your signature."
Leo blinked.
The pen felt strange in his hand.
