Some of the original stained glass could still be found in the windows, hinting to
the glorious past of this room. Now battered, burnt and ruined, it still kept its
majesty and good looks.
The wind caused the overgrown trees outside to tap on the frames. A door out of sight
slammed shut. Broken glass tinkled.
As soon as we got inside, we took a small amount of time to become acclimatized to the hospital.
To the sheer amount of noise. The crashing and thumps overhead, the bangs and thuds all around. We
had a few brief moments: the sudden pauses, the mouthing of “what the hell was that?”, and the jumps.
But I wondered if the others were thinking the same thing as I: we were not alone in here and was all the noise down to the wind?