pleased to hear. The last thing I need is the damn paparazzi coming here to destroy this hospital’s peacefulness and my personal privacy. I deal with plenty of their shit back in the states. I want to keep my anonymity for as long as possible and give her just the minimal details she needed to complete her medical charting. I begin with my name and date of birth, “Carson Bradley, 32, born May 31, 1982.”
After my assessment is completed, I sit back and decide that I don’t want to be anything but lazy today which is abnormal and uncharacteristic of me. My recovering body only wants to bask in the warmth and radiance of the sun shining through the far west window. It’s therapeutic for me. My mind is free of any stress or obligations. I’m almost at the center of my tranquility, when I’m distracted by cautious sounds of docile footsteps entering my room.
I glance over my right shoulder for a glimpse of my new visitor. Damn, who’s this woman? She’s well above average height, probably five foot six or seven inches. Her appealing slender body is hidden under her oversized, professional white jacket. I nosily check her medical badge on the left side of her chest for her name. Med-Resident Lillian Ly, wait a minute; I think that’s the name of the woman who found me . I recall the nurse mentioning it earlier. If I have to guess her age, I would say mid-twenties because of her academic level, but she’s obviously younger in appearance.
I mmediately, I feel an unfamiliar tug growing in my chest as my body hardens into stone under her sweet, demure presence. I can’t understand why my heart is racing so rapidly as I watch her approach me. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t respond to women, they respond to me. The delicate features of her slender, youthful face are stunning. There’s a mysterious hint of the exotic about her, possibly Asian or Hawaiian which triggers my curiosity. I can’t stop gawking. Her distinctive light russet brown eyes, rimmed with dark, thick lashes, leave me in a trance. I’m under their magical power. I hope I’m not being too rudely obvious. Her fair complexion is slightly kissed by the golden sun in all the desirable places, on the tip of her dainty nose and cheek bones. Only by sheer will power am I able to restrain my hands from reaching out to touch her soft glowing skin. Her silky chestnut colored hair is neatly tied back in a single ponytail, giving me an irresistible glimpse of her long, slender neck. Why can’t I resist imagining how sweet her rosy lips would taste? Damn, that gorgeous smile…what model wouldn’t kill to have it? My mind would surely forsake me if she offers me another perfect smile.
I continue to steal glimpses of her unblemished beauty as I avoid being caught. She has an adorable tiny mole underneath her left eye. If you blink, you’d miss it because the little dark speck is unnoticeable, but not for me. Her mouth curves slightly higher on the right side when she smiles. She bites on her thumb nail or lower lip out of nervousness, I’m guessing. People usually avoid eye contact and hone in on a subtle habit when they’re nervous, I know this to be true from my years of interaction with clients and employees. She’s left handed and wears no rings on any of her fingers. I’m pleased she’s not married, not really understanding why.
Shit, I’m embarrassed for losing myself in her presence. I keep hoping it’s not apparent to her. This isn’t like me to break down in front of a woman. I have to get a grip on myself. This bothers the hell out of me, not having control. How is it possible for me to be so drawn to this young woman? We’ve only met just a few minutes ago, and we haven’t even said a single word to each other. Why does she stand out like a rare pearl in a vast ocean? What’s making me feel this way? I haven’t had this tug in my chest for years.
* * * * * * * *
I lost Emily, my high school sweetheart, to Hodgkin’s lymphoma at
After my assessment is completed, I sit back and decide that I don’t want to be anything but lazy today which is abnormal and uncharacteristic of me. My recovering body only wants to bask in the warmth and radiance of the sun shining through the far west window. It’s therapeutic for me. My mind is free of any stress or obligations. I’m almost at the center of my tranquility, when I’m distracted by cautious sounds of docile footsteps entering my room.
I glance over my right shoulder for a glimpse of my new visitor. Damn, who’s this woman? She’s well above average height, probably five foot six or seven inches. Her appealing slender body is hidden under her oversized, professional white jacket. I nosily check her medical badge on the left side of her chest for her name. Med-Resident Lillian Ly, wait a minute; I think that’s the name of the woman who found me . I recall the nurse mentioning it earlier. If I have to guess her age, I would say mid-twenties because of her academic level, but she’s obviously younger in appearance.
I mmediately, I feel an unfamiliar tug growing in my chest as my body hardens into stone under her sweet, demure presence. I can’t understand why my heart is racing so rapidly as I watch her approach me. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t respond to women, they respond to me. The delicate features of her slender, youthful face are stunning. There’s a mysterious hint of the exotic about her, possibly Asian or Hawaiian which triggers my curiosity. I can’t stop gawking. Her distinctive light russet brown eyes, rimmed with dark, thick lashes, leave me in a trance. I’m under their magical power. I hope I’m not being too rudely obvious. Her fair complexion is slightly kissed by the golden sun in all the desirable places, on the tip of her dainty nose and cheek bones. Only by sheer will power am I able to restrain my hands from reaching out to touch her soft glowing skin. Her silky chestnut colored hair is neatly tied back in a single ponytail, giving me an irresistible glimpse of her long, slender neck. Why can’t I resist imagining how sweet her rosy lips would taste? Damn, that gorgeous smile…what model wouldn’t kill to have it? My mind would surely forsake me if she offers me another perfect smile.
I continue to steal glimpses of her unblemished beauty as I avoid being caught. She has an adorable tiny mole underneath her left eye. If you blink, you’d miss it because the little dark speck is unnoticeable, but not for me. Her mouth curves slightly higher on the right side when she smiles. She bites on her thumb nail or lower lip out of nervousness, I’m guessing. People usually avoid eye contact and hone in on a subtle habit when they’re nervous, I know this to be true from my years of interaction with clients and employees. She’s left handed and wears no rings on any of her fingers. I’m pleased she’s not married, not really understanding why.
Shit, I’m embarrassed for losing myself in her presence. I keep hoping it’s not apparent to her. This isn’t like me to break down in front of a woman. I have to get a grip on myself. This bothers the hell out of me, not having control. How is it possible for me to be so drawn to this young woman? We’ve only met just a few minutes ago, and we haven’t even said a single word to each other. Why does she stand out like a rare pearl in a vast ocean? What’s making me feel this way? I haven’t had this tug in my chest for years.
* * * * * * * *
I lost Emily, my high school sweetheart, to Hodgkin’s lymphoma at
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