HIS ANSWER, BOOK FOURTEEN
Mark
The fluorescent lights in the emergency room waiting area are blinding, and I can smell blood and vomit under the harsh scent of bleach and disinfectant. Pierre is talking to the nurse at the reception desk, showing her his cast and gesturing wildly with his other hand, the way he always does when he's agitated.
Could it be he's here for an actual medical problem?
I hide behind a group of burly construction workers standing near the exit, so Pierre won't see me.
The receptionist is having none of his drama, and he finally relents, goes to sit on one of the benches and starts filling out the stack of papers she gave him.
The hope that he's not here to see Charles is building like a volcano inside me. But I won't be sure until I'm sure. And there's little
