Ward Rounds by Alexis Wolfe
I overhear one nurse telling another: she’s a strange old bird. They’ve no idea I used to be a real siren.
I overhear one nurse telling another: she’s a strange old bird. They’ve no idea I used to be a real siren.
Her room’s sunny and warm, pleasant. Outside: -10 degrees. Ma’s wearing a blouse I bought her for Mother’s Day. Blue and lavender, with tiny violets, her favorite.
Just about anyone would say they don’t understand my chosen vocation. Just quit, it’s as simple as that. Besides you are much too young to work.
Even as a child she wanted to lie still in places so close to human routines as to be invisible. Places that offered a vaguely alarming anonymity.
Renata digs her thong out of her ass crack, brushes glitter on her boobs, and gets into Cage C, which is a respectable distance from the stage.