Cold surgical room. Mavis. Some paths are crossed once. Till the next threads align. 

Strangers in a room exchanging topics of the everyday. I was to feel no pain; on the contrary part of me was removed and deceased. 

Through the minor gap I gazed in her direction letting the tears stream. She read my pulse and knew I was out of breath. Nothing but the smell of blood and scrapping flesh. Going under the knife was saying goodbye. 

My body was an experiment. 

I hope to see you again to tell you how much that meant.