There was a pungent smell of disinfectant in the ward, and the bed was surrounded by a white curtain. Out of the corner of my eye, a small white dot appeared. I guess the nurse put a piece of medical gauze on the end of my eye. At least my body doesn't feel any obvious pain. I guess I just scratched myself on the glass, and that hurt was nothing to me.
"Are you going to kill the apple?" My voice was dry and hoarse as I spoke.
Frade was sitting in a chair by the bed. He stared down at the red apple in his hand, as if he were dissecting a corpse. The peel of the apple is covered with white flesh. I guess he's not very good at peeling.
I was surprised that he dared to appear in the hospital. Isn't he worried about my husband seeing us together? Although it is probable that my husband will
