The hospital waiting room smelled of burnt coffee and floor wax, a stark contrast to the vibrant world Elias had just left behind.

"He's okay, you know," Elias said softly. He didn't know who 'he' was, but he felt the truth of it in his bones.

When his eyes finally fluttered open in the ICU, the world felt "thin." The fluorescent lights were too harsh, the air too cold.

He stopped rushing. He started listening to the "hum" in people's voices. One afternoon, he met a woman in the park who was crying quietly on a bench. Old Elias would have walked past, late for a coffee date. New Elias sat down.