He awakes.
A nurse sits at the foot of his hospital bed.
She hums along to the heart monitor.
“Who am I? What happened?” he asks.
No response.
Instead, she stands, hunts through empty vials. “You have Bovis Stercus Disease,” she says, “Be still, or your insides’ll explode.”
With that, she leaves.
He doesn’t listen, stumbling out of bed into a carpeted hallway.
Pictures of him and the nurse as a couple line the walls.
“All will be well,” is the last thing he hears as she plunges the needle into his neck.
