Our legs dragged as we approached the traditional Indonesian restaurant, known as a warung, at the end of the street. Smokey grey fumes swirled from an open wok, behind which sat a small woman perched on the edge of a stool. Alerted by the footsteps of prospective customers, she glanced up momentarily from her work.…
Content warning: Suicide and associated themes
I lay cocooned in an old duvet on the hard hospital floor, drifting in and out of consciousness to the haunting lullaby of my best friend's heart monitor. I looked at the clock perched on the stark wall above me -- the only gauge of time I could find…