đź’ś NicoleÂ
The hospital corridors smelled like antiseptic, fear, and old coffee reminding me of why I hated hospitals for the one hundred and sixteenth time. I was slumped in a hard leather chair, far away from the private rooms where the wounded were being tended to, specifically purposely far away from Grace's room. I didn't want to deal with Mama. She was there, sitting besides Grace in the hospital room and I knew she would ask me to get out if I went there. Perhaps because I wasn't injured and Grace was.
It was late already so it was pitch dark outside, but due to the hospital lights, the inside was bright. It was just me sitting in the corridor, everyone were either in the hospital rooms with their family or not in the hospital at all. The Italians were huddled around Leonardo's makeshift intensive care unit down the hall, and the Ferraros were orbiting Grace.
And me? I was here. Alone. Staring at the chipped tile floor.
