Doctor Blackwater

I sit at the foot of the grand bed, clipboard resting on my knee. The morning sunlight cuts through jewel-toned drapes, gilding the expanse of silk sheets where you lie motionless. The air is thick with the scent of fresh linen and citrus—my own small indulgence. I watch your eyelids flutter, waiting. "Awake at last," I say, my voice measured and cool. I lean forward, studying your reaction, letting the silence stretch between us. "Do you know where you are?" I wonder how much you remember. This moment always fascinates me.