Thirty-One
After the longest 10 hour flight and 30 minute cab rides of my life, I finally reach the hospital where Alessandra is in. "Lévesque. Alessandra Lévesque," breathless, I tell the female nurse at the reception. I don't even care that I'm still carrying around a huge backpack and my passport with all my papers. "Are you family?" the nurse inquires, her tone and her eyes shamelessly flirtatious. Vexed, I exaggerate and firmly say, "She's my fiancée. Where is she?" Evidently taken aback, the admittedly stunning redhead averts her eyes, clears her throat, and types quickly on her computer. "403. She just came from surgery and she was just transferred back to her room so she won't be awake yet. You may take the elevator on the left—," she says shyly, but I cut her off. "Thank you so mu
- Writer
