"Get out of here!" He yelled at the older woman standing in the corner of the room. "Go on, get out!"

There was something familiar about her, but she was a stranger. She'd been standing there for, oh…he couldn't remember, but it was long enough to make him uncomfortable. She looked gentle and calm. Deep crow's feet had burrowed beside her eyes as a testimony to a life full of joy.

"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his voice. He disliked not knowing the woman, but her presence made him feel less alone. "Who are you?"

She stepped towards him and said something, but he didn't hear. He'd caught a glimpse of his own hands. The skin sagged a bit more than he remembered. He had more creases than he remembered. His fingers shook a bit more and ached a bit more, and moving them took a bit more effort than he liked. He would've panicked, but something on the ceiling distracted him. Then his brain drifted as he watched one of the overhead fluorescent bulbs flicker slightly.

When he woke, a lady was sitting next to him. She had a floral dress on.

"It's beautiful out today." She said with a kind smile. He went to say something but became lost in thought. His mind drifted again before he could see the tiny bits of fluid forming in her eyes.

His mind wandered to a small house. It had three rooms with a small garden in the back. He saw Fall decorations, Christmas lights, and hand-held sparklers, all coming in flashes. The scene was silent, but he could feel the noise of each event. He didn't see them, but he knew children were running, pets were barking, and people were telling stories. He was in his chair. That's right, his chair. The one he'd spent the extra money on. His chair. The one in the middle of the living room. He sat in his chair and watched the ceiling fan. One of the bulbs began to flicker.

"You need to get out!" He yelled as soon as he woke. A woman was beside him. She was wearing jeans and a sweater. His shout had caused her to stand from her seat. He studied her face intently. He'd seen her before but couldn't place it.

He'd seen a lot of people in his life. There was George at the barbershop, who had cut his hair every other Thursday for two decades. There was Tom from work who smoked cigarettes and ate ham sandwiches every lunch. And there was his sweet granddaughter, Abigail. He remembered holding her in his chair. She was so small and innocent. She loved to fuss but never stirred when he held her. He missed her.

"Where's Abigail?" He asked the lady in the room. He watched as the woman's face brightened.

"She's in New York with her husband and two kids. You're a great-grandfather," said the woman softly.

"Wow!" The man yelled out loud, startling the woman again. He tried to sit up a bit but couldn't muster his strength. A great grandfather! Wasn't that something? Wow! Who would've thought? Growing up with so little and now having great-grandchildren. Wow! He wasn't sure if his face showed it, but he was smiling. He rested his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The light flickered. He was unsure why he was happy but closed his eyes with joy.

He woke up coughing uncontrollably. The woman in the room immediately moved to his side. He instinctively grabbed her hand as he gasped. Tubes ran from the side of his bed up and into his nose. He reached for them, but the woman grasped his other hand to keep him from pulling the tubes out.

As his coughing subsided, he stared at the woman as he held her hands in his own. She was old but had kind eyes. Her face was deeply wrinkled; she was beautiful. He didn't know her, but she seemed familiar. He was sure he'd seen her before.

He coughed, breaking the moment, but immediately snapped his eyes back to hers in complete fascination. Her father disliked him. Wait, that wasn't it. He'd threatened him once, but he also could see her father shaking his hand. He had flashes of the woman where he saw her putting up Fall decorations, pulling down Christmas lights, and handing out sparklers. She had the most mesmerizing smile. He saw her handing him baby Abigail as he sat in his chair. His chair! He could see the woman in a white dress walking down an aisle on her, her father shaking his hand and saying, "You still need to bring her home by seven-thirty."

He stared into her eyes and felt a few tears swell up. He had flashes of him driving her, fiddling with her ring as he held her hand. He saw moments of her driving him, helping him into the car, helping him to bed, helping him walk into the hospital. He had flashes of her in the corner of the room, wearing a floral dress, wearing jeans, and a sweater, and holding his hand countless times as she was now.

His eyes broke from hers as a flickering fluorescent bulb pulled his attention to the ceiling. He felt her hands release his, which brought his attention back to her. His brow furrowed as he grabbed her hands. Her face lightened as he rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

"I remember you," he smiled, "I remember." He lay his head back on the pillow, grasping her hands. He closed his eyes. "I remember."