Just so you know, the perspective alternates in each chapter. The odd chapters are from the nurse's point of view, and the evens are from the patient's.

I opened my eyes in the morning, glad I was still alive. The image of that nurse's face was still stuck in my head. I pulled a piece of paper out of the drawer next to me and began to draw.

I drew her as I saw her for the most part: her nurse's cap sitting on top of her short hair, and then her pretty eyes, trying to be covered by her glasses. I smiled to myself and left her eyes as they were.

I finished the drawing and folded it up into a paper airplane. I sat waiting for the nurse to come to my room. She finally opened the door, and I felt myself smiling bigger. She needed to see more smiling.

"What if," I said teasingly, knowing she wouldn't unfold the paper airplane I was sending towards her at the moment. Just as I thought, she caught the plane and dropped it in the trash. She went and checked on things next to me, writing on her clipboard all the while.

I saw her checking my IV bag. I didn't expect her to have a worried expression or anything. She didn't, she just had that same frown that seemed to be permanent. I looked up at her happily, and noticed the glare on her glasses blocked her eyes.

I sort of wished I could see her eyes, because eyes seem to hold the most emotion. The nurse could pretend to be an emotionless rock all day if she wanted to, but I wanted to see her show some sign of happiness.

She saw me staring at her and looked away quickly. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked, though her tone was so flat it sounded more like a statement than a question. I shrugged. I really didn't know. I saw her purse her lips as she looked down at her clip board. I continued smiling; I knew she could do something besides frown all the time.

She left my room with her fast walk, as if she were trying to get away from me. That made me laugh the slightest bit to myself. It wasn't like I was leaving the bed. Bored, I pulled out another piece of paper and drew her again.

I almost felt like a stalker, continuing to draw her, but I didn't have anything better to do. I finished, and studied my work, satisfied. Knowing I wouldn't get a chance to throw it at her as a paper plane, I tucked it into my drawer, separate from the other white sheets.

I shifted my gaze to the window. My smile became smaller, but was still present, as I saw that the curtains were closed. I stared at the white ceiling, and then the white walls, and then the white floor. Nothing was dirty, and everything was white.

I let my smile falter a little bit as I thought about how it would end. I would just be another patient to get rid of, a smudge in the white room. I would just be that one guy that annoyed one of the nurses, and she would be glad I was gone.

I felt a tear start to slip down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, and pulled out another piece of paper. I tried to smile again, but it almost felt painful. I stopped when I was about to draw the nurse's mouth. "What if," I said to the drawing. I drew the curve for the mouth, and smiled to myself. "What if..."

I heard a knock on the door, and stuffed my drawing in the drawer. The nurse walked in, carrying my food. A smile of relief found its way to my face; I had really begun to miss her presence.

Her back was turned, as she had been about to leave, but stopped to write something down. I reached out with my arm to tap her, to tell her I wanted her to stay, but she looked back at me with her blank yet disapproving eyes.

I stopped in mid-reach. I searched for anything, any sign of emotion, in her eyes. "What if," I said hopefully. She walked coldly out of the room.

I sighed. If anyone could be a happiness-killer, it was her. I pasted my smile back on, knowing that if I just smiled I would eventually feel happiness again. If anyone could stay happy, it was me. I was not going to lose my happiness, and I was going to help her find hers.

I pulled back the sheets on my bed. I didn't want to have to stay on it. I knew my legs were too weak to support me, but I was bored.

I sat up and touched my toes to the floor. I pushed off the bed slowly, and half stood, half sat, for a moment or two. Then I leaned forward so that the bed wasn't supporting me anymore, and felt my legs collapsing under me. A sharp pain shot through my legs, but I sighed and kept on smiling. I reached up into my drawer to get yet another piece of paper and my pencil, and lay on the floor drawing the nurse.

I finished the drawing too soon for my liking, and tucked it up in the drawer. I rested my head on my arms and resigned myself to falling asleep.

I awoke to the sound of a foot tapping near my head. I looked up and saw the nurse. She had that frown again. She pushed her glasses closer to her eyes, and I smiled, feeling like that would explain the situation just fine.

"Are you OK?" she asked in her monotone voice. I nodded.

"I mean, if you were fine with me being on the floor," I said. I didn't have anything against the floor. Well, psychologically speaking.

She sighed and left the room. I almost started wondering if she was going to come back, when I saw two men coming to lift me back onto my bed. It made sense, I decided, that she wouldn't be able to pick me up. She was a rather small person.

The two men left and I saw the nurse standing beside my bed. "I brought your dinner," she said, and left. I watched her leave and smiled to myself. I was going to get her to warm up to me or die trying. I laughed softly as I realized I would probably die trying.