I’m itchy, hot, and I feel like I’m floating. I know what this means. I know where I am, and I remember why. I also know I’m alone in this room. I can’t see red-blonde hair, and I don’t smell her, either.The IV machine starts its beeping—‘put your IV back in, you fucker’—and I decide I’m going to unplug it from the wall. The adjustable bed is sitting me up, and I don’t really think about why that is before I grip the bed rail with my right hand and agony rips through my shoulder, so bad it leaves me gasping on my back. The lights on the ceiling are spinning like teacups. Teacups at the fair…right? Or is that Disney Land?A nurse comes in, she’s fussing with the machine. I can’t make out what she’s saying. I don’t fucking care. I think the IV was in my left hand but she takes my right one and I’m dizzy but I know her game.“You think…I can’t…take it out with this…hand?” I try to raise my left.She gives me a look I can’t decipher. The room is way too bright and she’s all eyes—a creepy aberration all in white.All in white…like a bride.“Where’s…my wife?”“Your wife hasn’t been here.”
