Thomas knew Louis was feeling miserable. He probably had good reasons, though. Louis’ parents had put a lot time, effort and expectations for the last treatment to do wonders but, quite like previous ones, the kid showed no sign of clinical improvement: he’d lost weight, had long shades on his pale blue eyes and barely spoke. His look wandered between the worn-out curtains and a salient drip –to which he’d be attached only too often–.
But Thomas had a plan: there was something he could do for his friend and, perhaps, for himself too. That’s why he’d carefully hidden a brand-new Wolverine costume –boots, wig and all–.
“Stand up and look out of the window at eleven o’clock”, said Thomas before leaving the room. Louis looked back and nodded, barely realising that Thomas carried a new backpack.
Kids would all gather up in the hospital terrace, a large garden-like playroom…
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