I apologize for taking so long getting to this piece. Not only has the world beyond intruded, again, I wanted to give this multiple readings before I talked about it. Interestingly, I find I haven't much to say, although I enthusiastically applaud your accomplishment.

This is a challenging piece, resting somewhere in that nether-region between prose and poetry. There's not a lot of story, at least in terms of plot. The only thing that actually happens (the accident) is dismissed early on as "rather blasé," although it's hard to understand that indictment, given the turmoil to which it has subjected the narrator. Mostly, it's about waiting, hoping that the injured partner will wake up, dreading the loss that seems inevitable.

It's almost entirely internal, which can be risky; here, the language is so rich and imagistic it never falls into boredom. It thwarts all expectations, and never offers the kind of narrative we might think we're looking for. But the only real requirement, when striking out on your own like this and making your own rules is that you remain consistent to them throughout. This you have done. Even the Sun's unexpected cameos make sense, in context.

I hope you'll consider submitting this. A publication like Fence would seem like a good fit.

Nicely done.