‘I cursed the sterile white room where Ann died’

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I cursed the sterile white room where Ann died

As I stood in the cold, sterile white room, watching Ann take her last breath, a wave of anger washed over me. The stark, clinical environment felt so cold and impersonal, completely devoid of any warmth or comfort.

I cursed the fluorescent lights that shone down with harsh brightness, illuminating every corner of the room in a clinical glow. I couldn’t help but feel that Ann deserved better than this, she deserved to be surrounded by love and warmth in her final moments.

The machines beeped rhythmically, a constant reminder of the fragility of life. The antiseptic smell in the air made my stomach turn, as I struggled to come to terms with the reality of losing her.

I cursed the doctors and nurses for their detached professionalism, for treating Ann like just another patient instead of the vibrant, loving soul that she was. I longed to whisk her away from this place, to a place where she could be at peace.

But as I held her hand and felt her slip away, I knew that this sterile white room would forever be etched in my memory as the place where I said goodbye to my dear Ann.

And as I left the room, the anger and bitterness slowly gave way to a deep sadness and longing. I cursed the sterile white room where Ann died, but I also knew that it was where she found her peace.

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