Aldo
I was back in the hospital, though this time, I leaned against the wall of the break room. Arms crossed. Face probably a mask of stoic detachment.
I was supposed to be meeting a vendor about the snack machine, but as yet, he’d failed to show. Irritation churned in my veins.
The fluorescent lights overhead hummed faintly, cast a sterile glow on the room below. Doctors and patients moved past me in a blur of motion and voices, but I remained unmoving.
I wasn’t sure if it was my irritation or the noise or the light itself giving me a headache. Maybe it was the uncertainty eating me up inside. The thoughts perpetually churning around in my head.
For weeks, my mind had been at war. Torn between the duty that had defined most of my life and the fragile yet so powerful urge to take so
