Long checkered shirts

Two.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

I look around and wonder where I am again.

Before I can panic I see a girl, brown hair tied back in a medium length ponytail - one that is not short, but isn't one for long hair - in the same hospital gown as me, but she has a darker blue jacket on over it, dark blue eyes, not ones you can get lost in though, and full pinky-red smooth lips - which were the opposite to mine, as I had small (practically no top lip) chapped and an ugly shade of pinky lips - her skin tone was a nice tanned tone and her cheeks were rosier than red. She was a bit fatter than me, but not she wasn't fat, I mean everyone was fatter than me, I practically had no fat, food just didn't stay down now days....
Her body was in full proportion and it was the most beautiful body I had ever seen.
That being in front of me was perfect.

She gave me a nervous, but confident and confused look, I then realise that I was staring and look down and fold my arms down in my lap, the tube in my arm was full of my blood, from where I must have moved a lot in my sleep.

"Sorry, you were tossing and turning in your sleep, I thought if you felt a presence nearby you would, em, maybe relax a bit more. And, em, so, yeah, I, er," she laughs awkwardly, "I came over and you stopped." She rubs the back of her neck.

"Well thanks, but I didn't need it, I didn't even realise I was doing it, so there was no trauma for me, you can go back to doing what you were doing now, I have nurses to look after me, it's their job, and no offence but your a girl I have never met before, who knows nothing about my condition, so if you excuse me," I turn over to my side, and forget that it was my left arm that was the worst, and I try to wince as quietly as I can, to not draw attention to my self.

"Actually, I have nothing to do, and I was trying to just be nice, but if you don't want some company I'll just-"
I cut her off before she gets any louder, God I hate attention.
"No! No... It's fine, I just... It doesn't matter." I say looking around as discreetly as I could.

"So, what's your name?" I say moving my head up and down quickly like a point, but with my head.

She smiles, pleased that I carried on with the conversation.

"I'm Danielle, you?" She ask.
"Alex." I say, with a small friendly smile.

"So, Alex," she says, "why are you here?"

I give a small disgusted laugh, and look down to fiddle with my fingers.

"What?" She asks, cocking her head to the right side.

"Why are You here?" I ask, mocking her.

She gives out a small laugh to, but more of a confident one, mocking Me.

"I'm here because I have cancer." She says it like she's rehearsed it, or like she's said it a million times.

I nod, "I bet that sucks balls?"
"Yep, nothing I can do about it though, really, is there?"
"You can fight." I say abruptly, surprising both me and her.
"Sorry," I say looking down at my hands, fiddling with my fingers again.
"No, no, it's fine, it's just, when people say that to me, they try to sugar coat it, like they would say "you just do the best You can, if you can't fight don't" like they are trying to tell me I can't fight and I..." She stops and looks at me, then she shakes her head, and She looks down in to her hands, fidgeting, "huh, sorry, I, er, got carried away there."

"No, N-" I laugh.
"What?" She looks up at me smiling.
"If I carried on, that would be the third time one of us said "no, no," I guess... I guess I just found it funny how both of us keep apologising for everything we are doing, even though either of us don't mind what we are saying to each other." I chuckle a bit, still looking at her this time, because, looking at her now, she is such a pretty sight to look at, like a Van Gogh painting, I just can't take my eyes of her, and I smile.

"Yeah, I like hearing you talk, you seem interesting." She says in return.
"Interesting?" I say surprised that someone actually likes having me in their company.
"Yeah, I want to get to know you... Ask me a question."
"What's your favourite painter?" I ask, thinking of her looking like a perfect portrait.
"Artist," she corrects me, "and I like Picasso, his different, and everyone let him be different, I aspire to be like that,"
"Great," I roll my eyes, "do we have to say a back story every time we give an answer?" I ask.
She giggles, "no. We don't, but if you wish it, I'm not stopping you." She hold her hands up, jokingly, as to defend herself.

We both laugh.

"Miss Foyer? Why are you out of bed?" A nurse comes over to Danielle.
"I was just making friends," she says in her defence.
"You know what we have said about making friends," the nurse says, and then smiles at me, to show that she isn't trying to offend me. Bitch.

I shot a sarcastic smile back at her, and she looks away, and back at Danielle.

"Okay, okay! I'm leaving! Jeez!"
She starts to walk away, and doesn't even look back at me to say goodbye.

I notice she is leaving the ward, as she must be in a different one to me, and I want to shout out after her, but I don't know what to say, and the words just escape my lips.

"VAN GOHG!" I shout and people turn around to look at me, but I don't care, I just want to see her look around at me.

"What?" She chuckles and does the head thing again, on her right side, again.

"The artist... His my favourite..." I laugh awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck like she did earlier.

She smiles, and shrugs her shoulders as she makes a "hm" noise while letting out a proud laugh, like she achieved something, and turns back around to walk out the ward, with the nurse following her behind.

I let out a small pleased laugh, and smile, looking, once again, at my hands, fidgeting with my fingers.

I then feel people still looking at me and I look up and around. Everyone is silent and eyeing me, like they had just saw a ghost.

"What?!" I say, huffing, they all then go back to their normal business and I lay back down on my back looking up at the ceiling, smiling to my self, as I let my self go, and slip under, into a deep comfortable sleep.