No one saw him park.
No one saw him arrive.
He was simply there.
Tall enough that his shadow stretched across the window panes, shoulders heavy beneath a worn leather vest darkened by years of weather and road dust. Tattoos wrapped his arms in faded ink — eagles, dates, names — stories no one inside the hospital yet understood.
His name, though no one knew it then, was Marcus Hale.
And he never came inside.
Nurse Rebecca Lang noticed him first during an early medication round. She paused mid-step when she saw a figure standing perfectly still beyond the glass of Room 312.
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