Scuttle into the dimly lit room.
Quiet save for the whisper of her shallow breaths.
Eyes catch glistenings scattered across the hospital room walls.
A dozen lines of oil smeared into stout crosses shimmering in the faint light.
No one has come to visit, remnant from the previous tenant.
Were they left in final farewell? Or to aid in healing
Feel the slow creep of awe and superstition.
Do you wash them off?
