Be gone? He

This is my entry for Day 392: 5 Minute Freewrite: Friday - Prompt: Be gone
Thank you, @mariannewest!

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He was there, at #333. He smelled like radish and, although it sounds weird, it wasn't unpleasant, but neither did it make that room a cozy place where a person would want to return. From the first moment I was impressed by the sensation of anxiety that he generated in me. In me! Everyone knows my coldness and that I'm immutable and many of my colleagues attribute this to the fact that I am an orphan.

Those hours seemed like days, or maybe I should say years. In the beginning, he babbled in an intelligible way enough to understand: The good thing about being blind is that I won't know that my final hour has come, that I'm going to die. One of those times, I asked him, against my mutist habit, why he said that. He replied: Because I won't see my life pass in front of my eyes... And he smiled a little, I think. Perhaps he wanted to laugh out loud, but he had these horrible coughing accesses.

Then he got aggravated and, snorting and trying to scramble the blue plastic sheets on the sweaty green waterproof mattress, he murmured: Those voices, those voices! You! Later, when he left, I wrote the note on the checklist: 3:33 pm Be gone. Like I use to do in similar cases.

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A few hours ago I closed his eyes. And a few minutes ago I closed mine, tired after that extensive and abusive medical guard shift. And it was then that I looked at him there, in the middle of the orange lights and gray halos behind my closed eyelids. He said: You will never believe this. First: Actually, I didn't see my life pass before my eyes, as an announcement of my imminent death, but I heard it. Second: son..., I heard you; so I knew it because something in your voice became the certainty that... I am your father. I left you long, long ago, in the market, next to a lot of radishes, shortly after your mother died and I, blind from birth and unemployed, began to suffer this incurable disease. And I did it again. I left you again, now, do you realize? Sorry, because neither before nor now I explained anything to you, nor did I say goodbye.

I'm 33 years old. I'm a doctor. I'm strong, hard and even implacable. But that old man whose lifeless body is here in the Hospital Morgue where I work has thrown me on the world twice. With his first absence, I had built the walls that he had just knocked down with the second one. This is my story, although implausible.

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¡Bienvenido todo apoyo!
Welcome all your support!

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Y ésta
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Be gone? He

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Entry for Artstorm Contest #50 - 'Family' ( Category: Digital Art)

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_{Contenido de mi autoría y propiedad, original y exclusivo (excepciones indicadas)
Content of my own, original and exclusive (indicated exceptions)}

©aumonde

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