Mental fog?
Erika:
Yes
Me:
Maybe that’s what is preventing me from remembering you.
Erika:
Maybe.
Me:
When is your break?
Erika:
I rarely take breaks.
Me:
Ouch. That feels like you don’t want to come and see me.
Erika:
I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that ER is busy tonight. If I get a quiet moment, do you want me to come see you?
Me:
I do.
I really do.
Erika:
Then I will see you hopefully sometime before the sun comes up, and if you’re asleep, I will be there when you wake up in the morning.
Me:
Promise?
Erika:
I promise. I haven’t missed a morning in four weeks.
Me:
Explain.
Erika:
I’ve slept by your bedside every night and have held your hand all day, except when I left to shower and bathroom breaks.
Holy shit, she’s devoted the last month of her life. To me. A shimmer of something moves quickly through my consciousness, feeling a lot like admiration and excitement. My curiosity swoops in, pulling at my heart, now wanting to know everything about her, as my pulse quickens with delight.
Me:
