Cast from the Doors of the Georgia Apartment BuildingMature

I am aware of the branch thick needle in my arm, but of little else. Blood clots and collects at sinews and muscle tissue at my chest, tools and plastic intimate with my flesh, but the most I have felt since going under, is a faint tickling.

As real time progresses (for my time as of now feels endless), I can sense more and more the ache erupting from my chest. My fingers twitch, my eyelids flutter, and I see a needle and wiry thread and before I can attest, I descend from consciousness again.

There is a bright light shining in front of me, I assume that I still lie on the operating table. But then I feel the starch sheets and cotton bandages. I try to open my eyes, and fail several times before I can make out the whiteness of the hospital ‘mood’ lighting. Sleep has glued my eyes together, I rub my face of the sleep and drool which has collected. I was unaware that I drooled.

I can feel hands on my body, a guise glowing angelically, buzzing about my bed, to careful to be a nurse, and as well, too caring to be.

“Adam?” Her voice is ethereal, whoever she is. “Adam, can you hear me?” I nod my head, and moan as a thousand pins of pain prod at my wits. Who was this woman?

“The surgery was a success! Your father would have been there if he could , but you know him, busy, busy, busy!” I finally manage to focus on this ecstatic creature, and recognize her as my fathers’ secretary; Avelia.

The End

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