Old and Lonely

A mild glow danced through the room. The clouds outside stood still, frozen in the windless day. A nurse had rushed in earlier and rolled me onto my side, warning me about sleeping on my back. I took her advice with a pinch of salt. I didn’t feel the energy to argue. My second day in the hospital was worse than my first one; the fatigue and pain which enveloped me previously had turned into a seeping burn and drowse. Looking back, I should have counted my blessings. Five stitches wasn’t much, all things considered.

“You’re a very lucky woman,” Doctor Partridge had said, holding yet another clipboard between the two of us, “The knife nearly scratched your heart. Though this is a very serious injury, it’s not the end of the world. Seeing how you survived the night, it’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t care. That was the end for me. In the space of one night, my world had been flipped upside down – at least for the time being. I couldn’t go to work, or home. Instead, I stared at the ceiling until two o’clock rolled around. The radio blaring by my head had become so frustrating that I decided it was better to lie and try to sleep. Then, as I closed my eyes for half a second, I opened them to see an old man sitting just outside my window.

“Hello?” I called out to him.

“Good morning, young missy,” he hummed, swivelling in his spot to salute me.

“What are you doing out there?”

“Waiting for my wife,” he sighed, “She’s coming to get me.”

I paused for a second, watching him.

“I didn’t know I was on the ground floor.”

The man breathed out a quick chuckle, “Yes it’s quiet around here. You must be used to the city. You only get this silence if you’re up high, away from the traffic.”

The End

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