The Healer adjusted her patient's pillows and set the glass of water on the nightstand. She then pretended to busy herself with the patient by the window. In reality she was watching.
People-watching was her favorite pastime. And there were plenty of interesting specimens coming through the doors of St. Mungo's every day. But there was one special boy who came in regularly. She couldn't look away. She watched as his round face lit up every time the bedridden woman handed him a piece of newspaper or a gum wrapper. The grandmother told him to dispose of the "trash." He put it in his pocket instead. Because he knew that it wasn't trash. It was a gift.
The woman in the bed waves and smiles as the boy and his grandmother walk out the door.
The Healer shed a tear for all of them. This is what happens when healing is not an option.
Prompt: Healing