The back room of the clinic had that faulty bulb. She'd stare at it whenever she found herself standing on the unforgiving, metallic floor.
"Breccia." Stretched out on the sterilized table, high on ether and breathing shallow, Geodude didn't stir despite her fruitless attempts to get his attention. When her father came in to check and saw her at his side, he sat his coffee on a near by desk. It was late, the sky nothing but a black backdrop with the moon serving as the only actor on stage.
"It isn't fair." She had no defense, being caught out of bed past midnight. At the ripe age of ten, life still felt fresh and nostalgic. Despite the fighting between her parents and the constant drama, her young mind couldn't fathom something as mysterious as death.
Of all the ones to lose first, she didn't want it to be her best friend. Since her birth Geodude served as her partner in crime. He watched her when she first learned to crawl. He helped her get into things after she became a bit more mobile. Her father spent more time scolding him than he did her.
So when he began to slow up, Breccia figured it was old age. Then he stopped eating...eventually he could barely move.
Like an embittered woman descending upon her husband's mistress, time was catching up. Seeing him pumped full of drugs cut her deep.
"Life isn't sometimes." It was obvious her father was tired and no more thrilled about the situation than she was. "There isn't much else we can do for him."
"But...you can fix anything." At any other moment, Breccia's undying belief in her father's abilities would have been heartwarming. Here, it was bittersweet.
"Broken bones and burns are minor wounds. I'm not a miracle worker."
Eyes stinging, Breccia did her best to choke back the emotion in her throat. "It isn't fair." She repeated her previous statement, unwilling to accept the inevitable.
"I'm sorry sis." Her dad did what he could. It was hard to assure a child who had never experienced heartbreak. As a little girl, she wasn't willing to accept it and thought he was giving in too easily. As a woman, she respected him more for it.
They stood at odds for a while longer, neither speaking to the other and neither attempting to debate.
After what felt like an hour frozen in time, Breccia was forced to leave. Her father promised that she would be contacted if anything changed. As she exited, she turned, watching her dad cover the frail creature before hugging it.
When morning came, the table sat empty.