He left the ICU for a moment because his hands would not stop shaking. The hallway hummed with vending machine light and the distant beep of monitors. He pressed his forehead to the cool glass and saw a figure beside the machine as if waiting in line.

No nurse badge, no visitor pass. Just calm eyes that made him feel seen in his exhaustion. He says Jesus did not speak with words. The quiet was its own language, enough to slow his breathing. He bought a packet of chips anyway, mostly to break the tension of holy silence.

Back in the ICU, his family asked why his face looked different. He could only shrug and say the hallway felt like a chapel for a moment. He stayed awake the rest of the night praying for the patients nearby, surprised to find he was not alone in the watch.

“That sterile hallway turned into a sanctuary, even with the vending machine humming.”

The vending machine still hums, and he tells new visitors to that hospital that the hallway is not just fluorescent and cold. It is a place where Jesus once stood for a man too tired to pray, reminding him that every corner can turn into a sanctuary.