Jim slept last night.
Because he knows what to do.
And it's not what he normally does, but he needs to do it. He can feel that he needs to.
So this morning, instead of a suit, he puts on jeans and a t-shirt.
It's the first time he has worn casual clothing in years. He works seven days a week, and he likes it like that.
Jim doesn't go to the coffee shop today, instead going in the opposite direction.
The direction of the hospital.
When he reaches the doors, he pushes them open bravely and walks up to the front desk, trying to ignore the clinical smell that lingers in the air around him.
Once there, Jim asks the lady (whose name, according to her tag, is June) a question.
"Is there a Catherine here? I don't know her last name, but she would have come in a few days ago and I just. I need to know if she's here"
The lady looks at him over her spectacles.
"It's okay dear, I get it. She's here. I think I know who you're talking about. I'll take you to her, ok?"
"Okay, thank you. Yes, that would be good."
"Alright then, this way please. I have to tell you, Catherine never told me she had a man in her life. She's been in here a lot you know?"
"Really?" Asks Jim. He is really scared now. "What's wrong with her?"
"I think it's best if I let her tell you/"
"Okay" he whispers, a growing sense of dread coming over him.
"This is her. Good luck, I think you'll need it"
He nods, unable to form words.
Jim walks into the hospital room. And there, lying on the hospital bed, barely any hair on her head, is Catherine.
His precious Catherine.
She looks up, and smiles a watery smile.
Then she croaks out one word. Just one.
"Jim."
YOU ARE READING
Trains
General FictionEvery day at precisely 8:17 Jim gets on the train with a coffeee and his newspaper. He has been doing this for twenty years. But as we all know, nothing stays the same for ever.
