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Moses’ vision was slowly starting to mix in shapes and details with the vast whiteness. He groaned as he struggled to turn over.

“Moses? Son, are you awake?”

Although he couldn’t see her, just the sound of his mother’s voice suddenly brought the world into better focus.

“Yeah, Momma,” he said as he turned his body some more and raised his head in the direction of her voice.

Her beaming face was a nice way to start the day, he thought. Her smile quickly disappeared, however. Her eyes were red, her eyelids puffy.

“How you feeling, Momma?” he asked.

It was then that he noticed his mother was sitting in a wheelchair. She wasn’t lying in a hospital bed.

He was.

“Momma, what’s going on?” he asked.

He quickly scanned the room, craning his neck, trying to see all four corners at once.

“It’s alright, son. Calm down. You’re okay,” said Mildred, who had pushed a button, alerting the nurse.

“He woke up,” she said as a nurse walked into the room. “Praise the Lord, he finally woke up.”

A middle-aged woman in white walked to the edge of the bed. She peered down and offered a half-smile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Preston?” she asked.

He looked up at the nurse, then over at his mother.

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