Sparks Fly

week 1

This was a lot. Being an intern, it sucked. Or well, it sucked in the sense that I hate it but there is nothing else in the world I'd rather do. Why did I have to love a job that involved being around sick gross people and having eighty hour work weeks. Eighty fucking hours. That's ridiculous. And inhumane. And I'm just really really tired, all the time. Every second of every day my eyelids felt heavy and my head pounded with tiredness.

I could quit. I'm smart, I could do a lot of things. I could be an accountant or a teacher or one of those people who buys stocks and does the whole sell high buy low bullshit thing. I really could. There is nothing stopping me. I'm a free agent. But then every once in a while I'll be allowed into a surgery and get to stare into someone's brain or hold a heart and I feel like I'm driving a car at a hundred miles per hour and I am right where I am supposed to be. But god, it's some sick joke that I feel that way about a job that takes over a decade to train to do. In conclusion, I miss sleep. I want to sleep. Dear god, let me sleep.

That's what I am going to do. Meredith Grey is going to sleep. If I can make it into an on call room, I'm going to pass out and I'm pretty sure I'm never going to wake up again cause I am so fucking tired. How can a seventy-two hour shift possibly be legal? What if I closed my eyes while I walked just to let them rest for a little bit? I would probably run into things, that's a bad idea. Eyes stay open. Two more minutes until sleep.

"Hey." I heard from the room next to me. My drowsy head whipped to the side in one painful motion and I saw a handsome man sitting in a bed. "Come here." He ordered.

I looked at him with wide confused eyes. I am way too tired to try to interpret social interactions. I hate trying to interpret social interactions when I have energy.

"I- you talking to me?" I responded.

"Yes, Robert De Niro, I'm talkin' to you." He responded with an accent.

"Robert De Niro?" I asked confused as I leaned against the doorframe.

"You know 'You talkin' to me?' Taxi Driver? The movie? Anything?" He asked.

"Ohh- yea I've heard of that-" I waved my hand gesturing for the next word to come to me. How could I forget the word for—elongated tv show thing you watch at a theater? God I need sleep.

"Movie?" The man laughed.

"Yes." I said pointing at him. "That's the word."

"You forgot the word for movie?" The man asked with a smirk.

"I did." I nodded.

"You're a doctor?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am. But not currently. Well I'm technically always a doctor cause I am Dr. Meredith Grey, it's in the name and everything. But right now I am so tired that if I tried to doctor anyone, I'm pretty sure it would end in my accidentally giving them a lobotomy which would be bad, and I would probably no longer be a doctor." I rambled.

"That would be bad." He agreed, then he scooched over in his bed, and patted next to him. "Lay down here and sleep."

"No." I shook my head. "That's weird I don't know you."

"I'll sit in that chair while you sleep in my bed." He shrugged.

"I can't take a bed from a patient." I sighed. "That's- well I don't know for sure but it sounds like the type of thing that is against the rules and will get me in trouble."

"Then I guess we will have to share the bed." He responded.

"I-" I paused. The exhaustion swept over me. "Fine. Fine. This is bad idea and probably against the rules or whatever. But I'm tired, and other beds are far away, and I'm just too damn tired to worry about being in bed with a strange man so fine." I said as I got onto the bed. "Just know if you touch me I'll stab you in the neck and I won't even feel bad about it."