23/4, morning

I feel rather rough. I'm dreaming about food, but I feel a bit strange in the stomach. Is it the appendix? Is it the period? Or, is it perhaps Ossi? He arrived back on the ward last night. I had sent dad home, and I was lying alone listening. How he was whispering quietly, quietly to his mum, how she was lying next to him, reading. I could only hear his heavy, sleepy sighs and her turning of the pages. He was breathing all right. When the mother had finished turning the pages she switched the light off and had also started breathing, I drew the curtain open slightly. By the light of the lights outside, I saw his handsome face. The dark eye lashes resting against his cheeks. Are the lashes that long, or, were they perhaps shadows? They were probably shadows. Nobody has lashes down to their cheeks. Except Ossi perhaps. At breakfast this morning, we spoke. We were lying there, each with a tray on the stomach, we peeped at each other and talked a little. I don't remember what about. Strange, it was just recently. But I don't remember anything. I can only remember his fine mouth, moving back and forth, and those eye lashes, and that I in my excitement kept asking him about everything, terrified that it would get painfully silent. Oh hell how my stomach is rumbling by the way.

A boy with dark hair is sleeping on his side in a bed with green sheets and pillow
Photo on the sly of Ossi sleeping