Something about her face seems so familiar.

“What is your name?â€? I ask, “Mine’s Hannah.â€?

“Hello Hannah, its Sidney .â€?

...

“How are you feeling?” At the bed side, holding Hannah’s hand, sat a very young girl. Her hair fell about her ears, and despite the deep foreboding black, it shined up toward the lights above. Her thumb ran over the back of Hannah’s hand, rubbing it, massaging it. She was watching herself do so, in an attempt to hold back her tears. Against her most valiant efforts, a single tear did break through, and in her voice you could hear her returning sadness.

“We miss you Hannah.” She said, eyes squinting up as they flooded. Sighing, she wiped them away, and straightened her shirt. Clearing her throat, she tried speaking again.

“They say, that the more love you show someone in your condition, the better the chance at them waking up. At least, that’s what mom said. We really need you Hannah, so much has changed. Look, I got a hair cut!”

“Sidney, Its time to go.”

“Goodbye Hannah, love.”