Ashton Flack is standing at the hospital's rooftop. He could feel the chill breezes against his bare skin. He grabs the pack of cigarette from his long sleeve pocket and let the cigarette hanging from his lips. Smoke flowing out of the side of his mouth. He thinks of his dad whenever he's all alone. He reminiscence back the day his mom left him and his dad.
"Where's mom?" Ashton asked his dad. He was at the backyard with the cigarette between his fingers.
"She went missing," he paused.
"Nowhere to be found, Ash," smokes flowing out from his mouth. "We'll get through this together, son," he looked away as if he doubted himself. Ashton stared at him and picked one as he exhaled the smokes.
"Look, pope," he showed Ashton the burning cigarette.
"This, it helps me a lot. The smokes symbolize my mess," he puffed out, "This smokes would went away in a minute and whoosh, same goes with my mess."
The memories faded away.
It was 15 years ago when he lost both of his parents. Ashton struggled to get back on his feet and managed to get back to medical school. He just couldn't believe what he had been through and now, at the age of 33, he is one of the top surgeons at Princeton Hospital.
"Are you kidding me?" The voices popped his memories. As he turns his head, he could see this young petite, beautiful girl in her lab coat.
To be continued...
