The nurse finally noticed the patch on his vest.
A motorcycle club emblem.
“You rode together.”
“For fifteen years,” Jack said.
“Did her father ask you to visit?”
Jack reached into his pocket and handed her a folded letter.
The paper was worn from being opened many times.
The nurse unfolded it.
One sentence was written inside.
“If anything happens to me, make sure my girl knows she’s never alone.”
“Your friend wrote this?” she asked.
Jack nodded.
“The night before his last deployment.”
For weeks the routine continued.
Eight o’clock.
Every morning.
Emily waiting.
Jack standing outside the window.
The toys. The pictures. The silent conversations.
Until one morning something changed.
Emily sat in bed watching the window.
Eight o’clock came.
But Jack didn’t appear.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Emily finally whispered, “Maybe he forgot.”
The nurse tried to reassure her, but she wasn’t sure herself.
Then at 8:21 a motorcycle roared outside the hospital.
Moments later Jack appeared, running toward the window, helmet still in his hand.
Emily’s face lit up.
“You’re late,” she mouthed through the glass.
Jack pressed his palm against the window, catching his breath.
Then he lifted something from his jacket.