I Cursed the Sterile White Room Where Ann Died

As I stood in the sterile white room where Ann took her last breath, anger and grief consumed me.

The starkness of the room seemed to mock the vibrant spirit that Ann had been, leaving me feeling empty and lost.

I cursed the cold, impersonal walls that had witnessed her suffering and ultimate passing.

Memories of laughter and joy in this room were now tainted by the sorrow of her absence.

The machines that had once beeped with hope now stood silent, a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

I wanted to scream and break the sterile facade that had taken my beloved Ann away from me.

But all I could do was weep, clutching her lifeless hand and whispering my love into the void.

My heart ached with the pain of loss, and I cursed the sterile white room that held her final moments.

I knew that I would never be the same, that a part of me had died alongside her in that cold, unforgiving space.

And as I left, the emptiness followed me, a shadow of the vibrant love that had once filled that sterile white room.