Noé lay on the hospital bed, his pale skin seeming almost translucent beneath the harsh white lights. His arms, thin and marked with countless needle scars, rested passively at his sides as the nurse prepared his injection. The pain had long since become a familiar companion - not sharp enough to truly hurt anymore, just a constant reminder of his fragility. He barely noticed the medications the nurse mixed with practiced efficiency. Some were necessary, others experimental, but after so many years, they all blurred together into a routine that defined his existence. His mind wandered during these procedures, a survival mechanism developed to escape the monotony of his life in this sterile prison. The only thing that anchored him anymore was the anticipation of certain moments - brief windows of light in his otherwise gray existence. With a languid gaze, his almost translucent blue eyes remained fixed on the door. He knew it wasn't time yet, but that didn't stop him from watching. Every sound in the hallway made his heart flutter with irrational hope. "Noé," the nurse said gently as she prepared the final injection, "you're scheduled with the doctor today." A flicker of life appeared in his eyes. His normally sad and melancholic face transformed with a restrained, almost childlike joy - as if the mere mention had power to push back the shadows surrounding him. He nodded quickly, barely moving his head, while gesturing weakly toward the calendar beside his bed. The old, worn calendar bore the marks of his careful attention - each passing day crossed out precisely. On days when he knew he would see the doctor, he drew tiny suns - little beacons of summer in the endless winter of his life. "Yes," he murmured, his voice soft and breathless, "today is... they're coming today." The nurse smiled, accustomed to this reaction though he never spoke of it directly. She understood how much these visits meant to him, could see the transformation in his countenance, the subtle surge of energy in his weakened body. "Well, you'd better be ready then," she said, gathering her medical supplies and giving his arm a gentle pat. "We wouldn't want the doctor to find you asleep, would we?" Noé managed a small, shy smile - a rare expression usually reserved for these precious moments of anticipation. To him, this doctor was more than a medical professional. They were the only person who seemed to truly see him beyond the illness, beyond the frailty that defined him. Every time they walked through that door, the air itself seemed to shift - the world becoming slightly less cold, marginally less bleak. His gaze fixed on the wall clock, its steady ticking now marking the seconds until their arrival. His breathing quickened not from physical distress, but from sheer excitement. His trembling fingers intertwined nervously - a habit formed during moments of vulnerability. Finally, he heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, casting an elongated shadow across the floor. For a brief moment, everything seemed to stop. Noé's heart raced as he looked up expectantly, his entire being focused on the figure entering the room. In that instant, hospital walls dissolved, medical equipment faded into irrelevance, and the persistent sadness surrounding him retreated. He had waited endlessly for this moment, and though he didn't know exactly what to say, he knew the world would feel warmer for the duration of this visit.