walk me out in the morning dew

🌷Track 4: Pushin' Thru It

The hospital loomed against the pale sky, a sterile giant dwarfing the few scattered cars in the parking lot. They mirrored my exhaustion, each one seeming to droop under the weight of a long journey. The air held the crisp bite of dawn, laced with a faint antiseptic tang and the promise of a busy day. Settling onto a cold metal bench, I reveled in the pre-dawn quiet, the calm before the inevitable storm of patients, doctors, and fellow interns. New month, new faces, same old routine.

Retreating to a quiet corner of the parking lot, I clutch my phone in my hand, the urge to connect warring with my introverted tendencies. 

Somehow my tendencies always win in the end.

 A new message pops up in the Sierra Verde group chat, a stark contrast to their usual bravado and hang over woes. My fingers hover over the screen. A text from Jason asking me if I wanted to go drinking with them after the shift. Part of me wanted to join them, to experience that camaraderie. But the thought of the crowded bar, the forced conversation, the pressure to be social, sent a wave of dread washing over me. There wasn't a strong excuse for not wanting to go, and admitting to being antisocial felt...well, awkward. Easier to pretend I hadn't seen the message.

With a defeated sigh, I tuck my phone away. Here I was again, the new intern, adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces. A familiar ache settles in my chest, a phantom limb of a friendship long lost. Casey Tran. Why did he always come to mind in these moments of solitude? Daydreaming about high school wouldn't bring him back, and a recent Instagram stalk yielded nothing but strangers with the same name.

Just another Tuesday, I thought, forcing a wry smile. All alone. And this time, no more Casey to save me. In the grand scheme of things, this wasn't a tragedy. Like a solitary star in the vast expanse of space, I was born alone, and perhaps destined to return to the silence the same way. Think of it as practice, Em, I told myself, a mantra for the countless times I felt adrift in a social sea. Things could be a whole lot worse.

Suddenly, a facetime notification pierced the quiet. It was Patrick, my ever so dramatic cousin--no, nephew. I answer the call reluctantly.

"Girl! Finally," Patrick exclaims with a theatrical flair, waving at the camera. I wave back, trying to match his energy.

"Heyyy, girlypop," I reply, hoping he doesn't catch the monotony in my voice.

"So... how was your trip?" he asks, excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

"It was fine. Spent the entire day cleaning the bathtub. It had mold."

"Ew." Patrick scrunches up his face, then quickly shifts the conversation. "By the way, did you tell my mom—"

"About where you were last Friday?" I cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

"Emmmm—" Patrick stammers, looking guilty. "How could you???"

"Relax, I didn't tell Auntie Mela about your 'boyfriend' or your newfound alcoholism," I say, using air quotes. "Besides, you're 21 now; you can do whatever you want."

"Not my boyfriend, but oh my god, I was so worried—" Patrick starts, his voice tinged with relief.

"Seriously, Pat, I get it," I smile, cutting him off before he can launch into one of his dramatic monologues. "You're young and handsome. Go kiss as many boys as you want."

He grins. "Thanks, Em. You're my favorite aunt."

I groan. "Ugh. We agreed not to call me that."

"Why not? You and Mom are cousins, so that makes me your nephew," he argues, mock seriousness in his voice.