And here is an extended version of the teaser that I shared the other week. (All rough drafty and such.) ------- The hospital hallways are a confusing maze, and I cannot find my way back to the waiting room, so I just keep walking. I ride the elevator up a few floors, and walk more. Then I take the stairs and walk a flight, counting the steps that take me higher. I walk another flight, and then another. I continue until I reach the highest floor that I’m allowed on. My feet throb and I’m winded, so I plop down on the top step to catch my breath and remove my boots. I’m bleeding through my socks. It’s disgusting. The idea of putting my boots back on is inconceivable right now, but I don’t know what to do. I am, of course, in a hospital where I’m pretty sure there might be a bandage or two to help me out, but I’m too humiliated to go marching through the hospital, leaving bloody footprints behind me. There would be no good way to explain why my winter boots are sizes too small for me, not to mention why I was compulsively running up flights of stairs just now. It would not reflect well on my mother, and no one would understand that she paid for these expensive boots and that should be enough. It was my fault for not choosing a size that would last me until my feet stopped growing. I will just sit here and wait for the blood to dry.
Posted on: Thu, 20 Nov 2014 23:50:20 +0000
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015