A week without Silvio felt surreal, like a strange dream lingering as I awaited the wake-up call. The nights were restless, contributing to the nightmare-like quality of my days. It was reminiscent of a time machine, the kind you find in a drama, waiting for a loved one to recover from a tragic accident. I couldn't shake the nightmares, the patient who never woke up from his coma.

My usual morning routine consisted of dragging myself off the bed and eating the breakfast Alfred made so lovingly for me after that a guard or two would accompany me to the clinic. Margaret was such a help. She would filter out...