Flashback

"Hon, will you go by the hospital to pick up some of Dad's x-rays?" Mom asks politely.

"Sure." I hang up the phone ... shut down my brain ... walk to the car in the blistering cold.

The whites of my eyes are scattered and broken with red lines like a random puzzle. I've been solving someone else's problems all day and now I am headed to the TraumaCondo ... just like so many other nights. The radio blurs NothingNoise in the background as my car cuts slowly through the jammed traffic. My mind flashes back to the ViolentSilence ... the uncertainty of life ... and the desire for certainty.

As I enter through the FlyingDoors, I immediately notice the piles of LeftOvers littered throughout the waiting room. I see one group of hurt ones ... terror in their eyes and wrinkled sadness on their forehead ... they circle around a WhiteCoat. He's giving them bad news ... I've been there. Look upward, I whisper to myself, hoping that maybe one of them hears my silent message. Look upward ...

My stomach ... hallow and hurting ... pangs with memories of this walk. My feet have memorized these steps. Straight ahead, turn right, stop ... elevator doors open ... two steps forward, turn around ... elevator doors close ... wait, wait, wait, wait, wait ... elevator doors open ... two steps forward, turn left, walk down the long hallway to see the broken, life-grasping bodies partitioned by floating curtains.

I don't know why I came up to the Tenth Floor. I guess I just wanted to find someone that needed some hope.