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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #2088387
Somewhat attempt at short story; my father is my superman.
         She sits there, biting the edge of her nails; waiting to hear what they have to tell her. She makes herself hear their footsteps coming down the hall, but it ends up being nothing more then the wind howling through the trees outside. She can feel all the eyes of everybody who is not waiting with her; staring her down. She's sure they want to be here, they just couldn't make it; life is so busy these days, she understands that. So she sits, alone, barely hoping for the best when the hair on her arms continues to stand straight up.
         Luckily for her though, the hideous decorating of the waiting room draws her attention away from the uneasy feeling. This chair she's sitting on, really? Wannabe shag material, with a distinctively old smell, it could have come straight out of the 70's. And the floral carpeting, which goes so perfectly well with the fading grey wallpaper, has the sticky feeling that could only come from the candy induced toddlers here for their checkups. The coffee table in the middle, which has clearly been here since they opened some 20 years ago, with all the dents and scratches from those candy toddlers throwing Legos and Lincoln Logs like there was no tomorrow, is topped with the most updated of magazine selections. Better Homes and Gardens with a pre-jail picture of Martha Stewart; hmm... Oh, and you can't miss the Seventeen with Britney and Justin, when they were young and in love, talking about spending their whole lives together; and since we all know how that worked out...
         The door to the back room suddenly opens, she jerks up, is it her turn? But the name the lady in white calls out was not hers. As the door gets slammed shut in front of her, she gets an odd whiff of old, grimy, plastic gloves. Oh yes, the distinct "hospital" smell is sure there, making her more nervous then before. Her fingers begin to fidget again, tapping the softest tune she can possibly make against the worn, wooden arm rest. She considers getting up and just leaving; this is too much for her, she'd rather not know. Her heart starts to beat; slower, faster, slower, then faster again. She can't take to hear what she fears the most; her heart would surely break. Falling, slowing crashing against the cold, hard ground and shattering into a countless amount of pieces. She's only been waiting five minutes, but it has felt like an eternity. She can hear the clock ticking away, but the second hand never seems to move; as if it's stuck in a black hole of motionless efforts.
         The door from the outside world creeps open; she feels the strong gust of wind hit her in the side of her face like a slap an ex-lover deserves. A young couple walks in, he's holding her hand, and she's clenching his. She has a glow about her, and is holding her stomach as if life is growing inside; but her eyes are drenched with a specific sadness.
         Her mind wanders, and she can only imagine why they are here.
         The way her eyes are swollen says that she's scared; terrified. Something isn't right. And her clenching his hands; she's horrified at the thought of letting go. The lines on both of their faces show how worried they are about losing something. He leans in close to her, breathing down her neck. He whispers so softly in her ear, "Everything will be okay. I have you, and you'll always have me; I will love you forever."
         She leaves them alone now, although she had never technically bothered them; she drifts off in her mind, let's them have as much peace as they can get. However, she can't seem to get over the fact that at despite what they were obviously going through, they still had, and showed, so much love for each other. They were able to find some bit of light through their darkest nights.
         The lady in white returns again, and this time it is her name that is called. She takes a deep breath in, and slowly exhales. She goes to stand up, another deep breath; she starts to get light-headed, considers leaving again, but she can't. She has to do this; has to find her strength. She grabs her bag and slowly walks toward the lady in white, following her into the back, feeling the door slam shut behind her.
         The hall she has to walk down seems longer then ever; she feels as if she's now walking into that black hole of motionless efforts. But she continues to follow; her body simply floating along.
         In front of her, she sees the lady in white turn the corner into room 2B; she's forced to follow in. Her vision seemed as if it were to go out, but all she saw was a bright flash of white light; she has to fight for balance against the stone wall, or else tumble over.
         When she comes to, and can see clearly again, he's lying there; strapped up in those machines. He looks over at her, as she slowly creeps into the room, with a smile swept across his face. A single tear rolls down her cheek; he grabs her hand and pulls her close. He says, "There's no need for tears here. We cannot change the past, but only look towards the future. What's done is done, and that's all there is to it. But just know one thing, one great, amazing thing that came out of today; Superman did not find his kryptonite."
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