She always made an effort to care, to remember names, to be kind. No matter how bad things got for the rest of them, she offered a sweet smile. When she made her rounds, she gave each of her patients undivided attention. Every nurse and doctor that came through was kind, but there was something about her, something different.
The days she had rounds quickly became his favorite. Her elegant fingers were always deft and soft, sure of each move she made. She had a strength about her and he found himself longing to ask her questions of her life. But it wasn’t appropriate in this place, not with her.
He did his best to pass the time by telling stories. That seemed to be the most popular with everyone else in the room. They were all there for the same reason and all needed the same distraction. So he told them stories of brave Highland warriors, of mythical water horses, and of fairy hills. Each person in the room listened in eager anticipation, including her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her leaning against the door, a faint smile on her lips.
“And that is why,” he finished. “The water never freezes. The chimney the water horse built for his wife keeps the water too warm.”
The tease of her smile turned into a full grin and it lit up the room. It was like seeing the sun after a rainy day and it warmed him to his very core.
tudo é cansativo demais e longo demais. das canetas pretas ao canto dos pássaros e o som alto que vem do norte, eu não quero mais fazer parte disso. tudo perdeu o sentido, meus gritos não adiantam, ninguém quer ouvir. cada gota derramada é só mais uma e não faz diferença. toda vez que o ar invade meu pulmão eu me pergunto se ainda vale a pena, sei que não. mas uma parte de mim insiste e luta pra me fazer acreditar que ainda existe algo, que ainda existe salvação.