From the waiting room, I calmly make my way through the double doors into the hallway. The distinctive smell of antiseptics is hard to digest. Why are hospitals so cold? The surroundings austere. This is nauseating.
I pick the phone off the cradle and insert a quarter. It goes straight through, and rattles into the slot at the bottom. I try again. I was numb with pain, as I punched the number.
‘They have started him on morphine. You should probably come now’, I said gently.
I turn to face the window and the darkening gloom outside. I see flurries.
This short story (99 words) was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge hosted by Rochelle.
The ‘flurries’ (though not pictured), are there, to evoke a sense of beauty on a more than grim day. This is part-inspired by true events. Thanks for reading.
Click on the blue frog to read different takes on this photo prompt.
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