Canned Peaches

My name is in your file. Back in April, you came through fast track with a cut finger. You’d sliced it open on a can of peaches and needed it repaired. Such an innocuous injury in the grand scheme of things. The irony, that it was me who called your name in the waiting room, …

The Miracle, Unravelling

You stand at her bedside in stunned silence, as the storm of the emergency room roars around you. A monitor alarms, someone speaks hurriedly into a phone. You stroke her knotted, blood-soaked hair and tell her everything will be ok. You hold her hand. She doesn’t squeeze back. Eighteen years ago, after months of appointments, …