Sigh...

Very few things in this life are permanent and none of them are pleasant.

I lit another cigarette as I sat in the hospital waiting room, the glow of the lighter providing a bit of light in the empty darkness. It was the evening and with nurses on strike, all was quiet. The cigarette hung in my beak, allowing smoke to burn up my nose before I inhaled, nearly coughing as the smoke choked me with a small pleasure that I couldn't seem to live without.

The doctor had told me that there was nothing anyone could have done and I believed him, but still I sat here into the night. Maybe she did bring this upon herself by running away, but she was probably just doing the same thing that I do daily by working endlessly, not daring to let my mind rest, lest my mind stings me with bitter truths and demons from my past. I wanted to blame her, but I also wanted to blame Danny. If he didn't swallow the barrel of that shotgun, none of this would've happened. I coughed at that thought, accidentally inhaling the smoke I'd held in my mouth for the bitter taste. I ashed my cigarette into the small tray I had taken from the nurses station before taking another drag off of my cigarette. Why was I so caught up in this? She hated my guts anyway, and yet here I was, dwelling over it. Then it dawned on me. We're similar, and that could easily end up being me. With that final thought, denial and stress stood up tall and beat me down, using baseball bats made of worry and resentment.

I needed a drink and I sure as hell wasn't gonna get one here, so with that, I grabbed my coat and left.