3
Dryas
“Monsieur Aétos?” The kindly older nurse pops her head around the curtain that separates my hospital bed from prying eyes. Her French accent is thick, her light grey scrubs a little too tight. “You should have the, uh… the privileges of using the telephone?”
She holds her hand up to her ear in the pantomime of making a phone call. I grimace as I lean over to the landline phone on the bedside table, picking up the receiver. I was not hurt in the accident, but my whole body was bruised, and I am feeling it right now. A dial tone buzzes in my ear, so I hang the phone up.
“It works. Merci, madame.” I nod to her. “Any luck getting me some pants?”
Since I got to the hospital still wearing Ari’s blood, I was given a hospital gown to wear. I have never felt quite as emasculated as I d
