Chapter Seven
I
absolutely hate being here. There is no place more uncomfortable or frightening, than a hospital. My clothes were still heavy and drenched from my impromptu swim. It didn’t help that the buildings air conditioning seemed to be stuck on freezing. If I didn’t catch the flu after this, it would certainly be a miracle. Forcing myself up from the wooden chair, I walked over to the large window and stared up at a blanket of greyish clouds. Not one trace of sunlight could be found coming down from the heavens. Every minute I spent in Seattle, made me yearn for the heat and stifling humidity of New Orleans.
The door to our private waiting room slid open and an exhausted Sanchez walked inside. In his hand, he carried a long grocery bag that seemed to float inches above the floor.
