06-01-2025, 07:33 PM
Jay sat hunched in the curved arm of a surprisingly comfortable chair, his coat pulled tight across his chest. The drugs had long worn off by now. His hand throbbed like a heartbeat caught in bone, and the swelling was worse now, pressing against the skin in angry shades of violet. The cold had made it stiff. Now the warmth made it ache.
The overhead lights were an expensive kind of softness, but still too bright for his eyes. His head pounded like it wanted to crawl out of his skull and walk away without him. The hospital smelled like antiseptic and flowers. A place this polished wasn’t treating coughs and broken fingers unless they were attached to someone with the right last name. The last name of the woman who just entered, for example.
He saw her before she even made it to the desk. Hell, everyone with a heartbeat saw her. The dress was a deep, storm-colored silk that glimmered like wet slate under the lights. The neckline was cut like a weapon. Her walk was confident and elegant even with a badly swollen ankle turning purple beneath it all. She should’ve been hobbling. But she glided. As best as one could.
Beside her, some man in a tuxedo tracked her movements, princely and polished, straight out of a movie. Jay blinked slowly. The guy even had the collar just slightly open, like he knew he looked better when he wasn’t trying too hard.
Jay watched with a flicker of dry amusement as the receptionist straightened, perked, and within two minutes, she was ushered away. Private wing. No waiting. No questions. His lips pressed together in something like a smirk.
“Of course,” he muttered, shifting the ice pack on his hand. He wasn’t even sure if it was still cold.
Whoever she was, she didn’t look like she belonged in an ER waiting room. Neither did the guy, for that matter. They looked like they’d stepped out of a movie and accidentally wandered into someone else’s bad dream.
Jay rubbed his jaw with the back of his good hand and sank deeper into his seat. He was used to waiting. Maybe they’d fix his hand before dawn.
The overhead lights were an expensive kind of softness, but still too bright for his eyes. His head pounded like it wanted to crawl out of his skull and walk away without him. The hospital smelled like antiseptic and flowers. A place this polished wasn’t treating coughs and broken fingers unless they were attached to someone with the right last name. The last name of the woman who just entered, for example.
He saw her before she even made it to the desk. Hell, everyone with a heartbeat saw her. The dress was a deep, storm-colored silk that glimmered like wet slate under the lights. The neckline was cut like a weapon. Her walk was confident and elegant even with a badly swollen ankle turning purple beneath it all. She should’ve been hobbling. But she glided. As best as one could.
Beside her, some man in a tuxedo tracked her movements, princely and polished, straight out of a movie. Jay blinked slowly. The guy even had the collar just slightly open, like he knew he looked better when he wasn’t trying too hard.
Jay watched with a flicker of dry amusement as the receptionist straightened, perked, and within two minutes, she was ushered away. Private wing. No waiting. No questions. His lips pressed together in something like a smirk.
“Of course,” he muttered, shifting the ice pack on his hand. He wasn’t even sure if it was still cold.
Whoever she was, she didn’t look like she belonged in an ER waiting room. Neither did the guy, for that matter. They looked like they’d stepped out of a movie and accidentally wandered into someone else’s bad dream.
Jay rubbed his jaw with the back of his good hand and sank deeper into his seat. He was used to waiting. Maybe they’d fix his hand before dawn.
Only darkness shows you the light.