Lisa sat in her car, trying to get up the strength to go inside and start
another 12-hour shift. "Don't wanna *be* here," she groaned. She rummaged
through her purse until she found a small glassine envelope.
//Ah, crystal inspiration...//
Hastily, she finished off the bag, then rubbed the residue from her nose, checked her makeup, and went inside.
"You're a little late, Lisa," the head nurse said coldly as she walked by.
"Sorry!" Lisa sang out, hitting the down button on the elevator. "Alarm didn't go off!"
//How did I ever live without this wonderful stuff?//
When Lisa stepped into Alessa's room, she saw her notebook on the bedside table. "Oh, great, I suppose everyone has been passing this around and making fun of it." She considered the possibility, then chirped, "Ah, fuck 'em!"
Alessa moaned.
"Hey there," Lisa said softly, taking Alessa's wrist and checking her pulse. "How's my favorite patient today?"
An unfamiliar voice whispered, "Read the poem."
Lisa gasped and whirled around. "Who's there?" she demanded. She went to the door and peered into the hallway, but she didn't see anyone. Returning to the bed, she looked down at Alessa and said, "That wasn't *you*, was it?"
Alessa's eyes moved under the lids, as though she was dreaming.
Nervously, Lisa picked up the notebook and looked inside. With a gasp, she realized that two lines had been written under her girlish, almost prim handwriting, in thick red ink that almost looked like blood:
//Unavoidable sleeping time.
Liquid flowing from a slashed wrist.//
Trembling, Lisa closed the notebook and fumbled in her pocket for more White Claudia.
//Ah, crystal inspiration...//
Hastily, she finished off the bag, then rubbed the residue from her nose, checked her makeup, and went inside.
"You're a little late, Lisa," the head nurse said coldly as she walked by.
"Sorry!" Lisa sang out, hitting the down button on the elevator. "Alarm didn't go off!"
//How did I ever live without this wonderful stuff?//
When Lisa stepped into Alessa's room, she saw her notebook on the bedside table. "Oh, great, I suppose everyone has been passing this around and making fun of it." She considered the possibility, then chirped, "Ah, fuck 'em!"
Alessa moaned.
"Hey there," Lisa said softly, taking Alessa's wrist and checking her pulse. "How's my favorite patient today?"
An unfamiliar voice whispered, "Read the poem."
Lisa gasped and whirled around. "Who's there?" she demanded. She went to the door and peered into the hallway, but she didn't see anyone. Returning to the bed, she looked down at Alessa and said, "That wasn't *you*, was it?"
Alessa's eyes moved under the lids, as though she was dreaming.
Nervously, Lisa picked up the notebook and looked inside. With a gasp, she realized that two lines had been written under her girlish, almost prim handwriting, in thick red ink that almost looked like blood:
//Unavoidable sleeping time.
Liquid flowing from a slashed wrist.//
Trembling, Lisa closed the notebook and fumbled in her pocket for more White Claudia.