A Quiet Life, Almost.
832 Words
Morning at St. Aurora General Hospital began before the sun fully rose.
For Isolde Faylen, it never really felt like morning.
It felt like continuation.
“Isolde! You’re on early rounds today!”
“I know—I’m coming!”
Her voice carried down the corridor as she hurried in, slightly out of breath, adjusting her bag as she moved. A few strands of hair had already escaped, framing her face in soft disarray.
She barely noticed.
She rarely did.
---
The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and something warmer beneath it—like routine, like persistence.
Like people trying.
Isolde liked that.
She liked places where people tried.
---
“Good morning,” she said gently as she stepped into Room 12.
The elderly woman inside looked up, her tired expression easing just a little.
“You’re always smiling,” the woman said.
Isolde blinked in surprise, then gave a small, awkward laugh.
“I-I am?”
“You are.”
A pause.
“It makes things easier.”
Isolde didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she adjusted the blanket, careful and precise, like it mattered more than it should.
Maybe it did.
“Then I’ll keep doing it,” she said softly.
---
The day unfolded the way it always did.
Measured. Steady.
Safe.
“Your temperature is normal now.”
“Try to rest, okay?”
“I’ll check on you again later.”
Small words.
But they mattered.
Isolde believed in small things.
Because small things were what kept people going.
---
Still…
There were moments—
Quiet ones—
Where her mind wandered.
---
It happened while she was writing notes at the nurses’ station.
Just a second.
A flicker.
A memory.
A boy standing too close to something he shouldn’t have been near.
Too quiet. Too still.
Her pen slowed.
“…Gloomy Face…”
The name slipped out under her breath before she could stop it.
She froze.
Why now?
Of all days… why now?
Her brows knit together slightly.
She hadn’t thought about him in a long time.
Not properly.
Just… occasionally.
Like remembering something strange that didn’t quite fit anywhere.
“…I wonder if he’s okay…”
The thought came softer this time.
More genuine.
Less accidental.
---
“Isolde!”
She startled, her pen slipping slightly across the page.
“I—!”
Her colleague stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with a look that was half amused, half suspicious.
“You’ve been staring at that paper for five minutes.”
“I have not!”
“You have.”
A pause.
“…And you said something weird again.”
Isolde’s face warmed instantly.
“I didn’t say anything weird!”
“Mm.” The colleague tilted her head. “Gloomy Face?”
Silence.
Isolde looked away.
“…It’s nothing,” she muttered.
The tone was softer now.
Quieter.
Not embarrassed—
Just… distant.
Her colleague noticed.
But didn’t push.
“Doctor Mensah is looking for you,” she said instead.
“Oh! Right—thank you!”
Isolde quickly stood, smoothing her uniform unnecessarily, grateful for the interruption.
And just like that—
She moved on.
Because that’s what she always did.
---
Later—
The hospital grew busier.
Footsteps echoed more frequently. Voices overlapped.
Everything felt… alive.
And yet—
Something wasn’t right.
---
It started as a feeling.
Subtle.
Almost unnoticeable.
Isolde paused in the hallway, glancing around.
Nothing had changed.
Same walls. Same people. Same routine.
But the air felt heavier somehow.
Like something unseen had entered the space.
“…Weird,” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
She turned quickly. “Nothing!”
Just tired.
It had to be that.
---
But the feeling didn’t leave.
---
A stretcher rushed past suddenly.
“Clear the way!”
Isolde stepped aside immediately, instinct taking over.
Doctors moved quickly, voices sharp, focused.
Urgent.
Her eyes followed the patient automatically.
And for a brief second—
Their gaze met.
---
It wasn’t fear.
It wasn’t pain.
It was… awareness.
The kind that lingered too long.
The kind that made her chest feel tight without knowing why.
---
Then they were gone.
Just like that.
---
Isolde stood there for a moment longer than she should have.
“…That felt strange,” she murmured.
No one answered.
---
She shook her head lightly and continued walking.
Because that’s what normal people did.
They didn’t stop over things they couldn’t explain.
They didn’t dwell on strange feelings.
They moved forward.
---
But even as she continued her rounds—
Even as she smiled, spoke gently, reassured patients—
Something stayed with her.
A quiet unease.
---
And somewhere in the back of her mind—
A boy with a distant gaze lingered again.
Not clearly.
Not fully.
Just enough to exist.
---
Outside—
A black car sat across the street.
Engine silent.
Presence heavy.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Inside—
She continued her life, unaware.
Outside—
Someone had already found her.
--
- Writer
