so here was the picture for this story::
Just as I had each night before, I walked down the wide hall of the ancient building.
Every day for almost a month. Such a long one….
I’d thought I had wanted to help, but as my time there neared, relief slowly escaped my body.
Bit by bit. More so as the sun rose—preparing me for a new day.
Back at the university, I would ask my counselor for help with a new career path.
Trying desperately to look at the tiny medicine cups and avoid my periphery, I made my way along.
Not an easy task. The one squeaky wheel on my cart added to the chill in the air.
I couldn’t help but look up. The screams and moans at my sides pierced straight through to my bones. The mumbled jargon.
The window was ahead. It helped me remember I wasn’t stuck. In that place. With those people.
A few steps ahead, just under that same arched window, a perfect crescent moon reflected on the tile of the cruelly cold hospital.
Weren’t these men tortured enough? The least that could be done was to create a comfortable atmosphere.
I neared the end—my duty just starting.
Taking a deep breath, I held it in while I grabbed the first cup.
All lined up in order. Room numbers scribbled in Sharpie on the side.
Letting the breath out, I slowly turned.
I walked up to the man, grateful I would only have to see his face three more times. Just three more shifts.
Or so I thought. People like that sear into your memory, whether you want them to or not.
By Eden on 06.02.09 10:08 pm |