08-06-2018, 08:43 PM
[size=9pt]Usually, Moon's not so fond of the night. With it comes the ebb and flow of memories he doesn't want to think about, of thoughts that grab onto his head and hold tight, weigh down his chest 'till he feels like, when morning comes, he won't be able to pull himself from bed. It's a hassle he doesn't want to deal with; so he picks the nightshifts.
He likes them. It's never quiet in the hospital; always someone to care for, always something to do, and if not that, then the steady hush of breathing throughout the rooms. Always sound, no matter how small; never complete silence. Sometimes, at night, the kids will get scared, too, and Moon'll be able to hang out with them for a while. Read them a story, or, if they're all out of books, come up with one on the spot, and Moon must be a closet genius with words, because the kids always light up when he's forced to improvise with his own tales. It makes him feel as warm as their smile looks.
Tonight is different, though. Mabel's losing it. She's so full of confusion, of anger and aimlessness, and she fights them any time they try to help. The woman is aging, and even even when she wasn't plagued with dementia, she was fucking coocoo. When she gets bad, she looks at Moon with such pure disgust, a snarl pulled on her wrinkled lips, and she spits, and she kicks, and she thrashes. They're used to it, by now, but tonight Edgar was there, in his perfectly ironed shirt, with a rose in hand and his big, dumb glasses. He'd skipped through the Hospital's door with it in hand, and through the hallways everyone called a cheery greeting, because if you didn't know the exact date of Edgar and Mabel's anniversary, did you even fucking work here? He'd arrived in her room and presented her with the flower and the box of chocolates, and she looked at him with the bitterness of a woman who didn't even know her husband when she saw him.
Edgar had left 4 hours ago, glassy-eyed, and Mabel had fallen into an angry slumber shortly after, but Moon was still thinking about it. 3 am, and there he sat, atop the counter in the foyer. Usually, there'd be someone behind the desk, and the lights would be on and so would all the computers, but apparently a couple of shifts had fallen through tonight with people calling in sick. There were no janitors, no receptionists, and he was pretty sure there were only two or three nurses on call tonight, too. They were lucky; it seemed, tonight, the patients were sleeping soundly. Not a problem in sight.
There was a bottle of whiskey under the counter. Not his; Old Joe, the guy who cleaned the toilets, had slipped it under there a while ago with a passing wink Moon's way, and he'd never thought about it again, but tonight, it was on his mind. What was also on his mind, however, was the one Doctor on call, off somewhere down the other end in her gorgeous, glistening office, and the fact that he really didn't plan on getting fired anytime soon. So he sat, self control wavering by the millisecond, and he thought about life, death, love, prune juice, and the inevitability of it all as he stared down at off-white panels of the floor.
He likes them. It's never quiet in the hospital; always someone to care for, always something to do, and if not that, then the steady hush of breathing throughout the rooms. Always sound, no matter how small; never complete silence. Sometimes, at night, the kids will get scared, too, and Moon'll be able to hang out with them for a while. Read them a story, or, if they're all out of books, come up with one on the spot, and Moon must be a closet genius with words, because the kids always light up when he's forced to improvise with his own tales. It makes him feel as warm as their smile looks.
Tonight is different, though. Mabel's losing it. She's so full of confusion, of anger and aimlessness, and she fights them any time they try to help. The woman is aging, and even even when she wasn't plagued with dementia, she was fucking coocoo. When she gets bad, she looks at Moon with such pure disgust, a snarl pulled on her wrinkled lips, and she spits, and she kicks, and she thrashes. They're used to it, by now, but tonight Edgar was there, in his perfectly ironed shirt, with a rose in hand and his big, dumb glasses. He'd skipped through the Hospital's door with it in hand, and through the hallways everyone called a cheery greeting, because if you didn't know the exact date of Edgar and Mabel's anniversary, did you even fucking work here? He'd arrived in her room and presented her with the flower and the box of chocolates, and she looked at him with the bitterness of a woman who didn't even know her husband when she saw him.
Edgar had left 4 hours ago, glassy-eyed, and Mabel had fallen into an angry slumber shortly after, but Moon was still thinking about it. 3 am, and there he sat, atop the counter in the foyer. Usually, there'd be someone behind the desk, and the lights would be on and so would all the computers, but apparently a couple of shifts had fallen through tonight with people calling in sick. There were no janitors, no receptionists, and he was pretty sure there were only two or three nurses on call tonight, too. They were lucky; it seemed, tonight, the patients were sleeping soundly. Not a problem in sight.
There was a bottle of whiskey under the counter. Not his; Old Joe, the guy who cleaned the toilets, had slipped it under there a while ago with a passing wink Moon's way, and he'd never thought about it again, but tonight, it was on his mind. What was also on his mind, however, was the one Doctor on call, off somewhere down the other end in her gorgeous, glistening office, and the fact that he really didn't plan on getting fired anytime soon. So he sat, self control wavering by the millisecond, and he thought about life, death, love, prune juice, and the inevitability of it all as he stared down at off-white panels of the floor.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]