Если я останусь
12:19 P.M.
Therearerowsofoperatingrooms,allfullofsleepingpeople.Ifthepatientsinsidetheseroomsarelikeme,whythencan’tIseethepeopleoutsidethepeople?IseveryoneelseloiteringaboutlikeIseemtobe?I’dreallyliketomeetsomeoneinmycondition.Ihavesomequestions,like,whatisthisstateI’minexactlyandhowdoIgetoutofit?HowdoIgetbacktomybody?DoIhavetowaitforthedoctorstowakemeup?Butthere’snooneelselikemearound.MaybetherestofthemfiguredouthowtogettoHawaii.
Ifollowanursethroughasetofautomaticdoubledoors.I’minasmallwaitingroomnow.Mygrandparentsarehere.
GranischatteringawaytoGramps,ormaybejusttotheair.It’sherwayofnotlettingemotiongetthebestofher.I’veseenherdoitbefore,whenGrampshadaheartattack.SheiswearingherWelliesandhergardeningsmock,whichissmudgedwithmud.Shemusthavebeenworkinginhergreenhousewhensheheardaboutus.Gran’shairisshortandcurlyandgray;she’sbeenwearingitinapermanentwave,Dadsays,sincethe1970s."It’seasy,"Gransays."Nomuss,nofuss."Thisissotypicalofher.Nononsense.She’ssoquintessentiallypracticalthatmostpeoplewouldneverguessshehasathingforangels.Shekeepsacollectionofceramicangels,yarn-dollangels,blown-glassangels,you-name-itangels,inaspecialchinahutchinhersewingroom.Andshedoesn’tjustcollectangels;shebelievesinthem.Shethinksthatthey’reeverywhere.
