Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.

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Hospital "The Light"

Much of the following I would attribute to the state of exhaustion reported by the narrator.

It was as dark of a night as I had ever experienced when I finally managed to stumble my way out of the hospital. It had been a full day since my grandmother had entered the emergency ward, her skin pale, hardly a breath left in her body. By now I was exhausted, and my eyes were burning even when they were closed. Wearily, I followed the sidewalk and headed towards the lamppost hanging above the bus stop nearby.

There was a chill in the air, frost gripping the ground, causing the grass to crunch under my feet. A harsh wind thrashed the branches of the trees, causing the lamppost to gently sway back and forth. In five minutes the bus would arrive and I would be on my way home. With effort maybe I would manage not to fall asleep. You never know who you would meet on these early morning buses, and I wasn't in the mood to wake up and find my pockets a bit lighter.

I felt my heart jump as a car passed by, the heavy hiss of the wind brushing past my ears as it headed down the street. Gripping the side of my nose, I realize how spent I was, my nerves completely shot. I looked up, and watched as the red tail lights flashed, passing quickly down the street until they were long out of sight.

I shivered, the thought of my grandmother entering my mind; eyes closed, lips pale. Her body had been clothed in tubes by the time I had left, her form quivering, grasping desperately to each breath. Even now was the lingering knot in my chest, long after the doctors had declared her condition as more or less stable.

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