A blade of yellowed light cut across the long window and pierced right through his weary eyes. He labored to open them; they were gray and always exhausted as if he'd walked many kilometers. Mr. Oloo had laid in that hospital bed for the last three months, sharing a ward with strangers, each carrying a different kind of pain. The ward was always filled with a solemn intoxicating feeling of farewell as if they were all merciless to the hands of death. Mr. Oloo had been diagnosed with liver cirrhosis a couple of months before the admission. He knew it was because of the bottle, but that never worried him.
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