є∂єи:
I sit on the park bench rubbing the glass surface of my pocket watch. The small scratch in the crystal hasn't bothered me until today, at exactly 1:22 in the afternoon. The time it has been stuck on for four years now. I look up as the minute passes and look at the boy across the street from me. He's got a camera in his hand and a bag slung over his shoulder like he couldn't care less about its contents. I fumble around my backpack for a pencil and a sketch book thinking about why on earth I plan on drawing him. He holds very little interest to me, other than the fact that he's a regular at the book shop my best friend works at and I swear on my life he's stalking me. But that's a perfect reason to sketch him right?
I've been working on the same drawing for like a month now because I only catch glimpses of him outside the shop and if Lacey saw me with that picture in hand she would have a freak attack and she would never let me live it down.
"Is that the hipster boy that you claim to hate?" Speak of the devil. I slam my book closed faster than humanly possible.
"No!" I yell, my volume gives away the lie. She smiles at me and practically skips the rest of the way to the bench. She sits down next to me and crosses her legs. White pants contrast the heavy black paint on the bench and make her look something like an angel stepped in a pool of mud but refused to get dirty.
"Where's your rose?" I ask flipping open to a new page in the book. She holds up her leg and shows me her rose patterned platform heals.
"Aren't they cute?!" She asks excitedly.
"Adorable" I say the word oozing with sarcasm.
"Are you mocking me?" she asks crossing her arms.
"Psh never," she glares at me.
Lacey and I have been best friends since we were eight years old, though it is a strange mash up. The cute blonde girly-girl with a taste for her own style, and the natural tom-boy nerd who wears nothing but baggy sweatshirts, jeans and fails to do her hair in the mornings. Yeah there was a bit of fighting to begin with. She probably tried to tell me how to dress 300 times, she never won though.
"Lunch?" I ask pulling a brown paper bag out of my backpack.
"Um no thanks," she says looking disgusted. That's sort of how it goes with us. She watches me make a peanut butter sandwich in the morning and then I offer her half at lunch she looks at me sort of like I have three heads and declines then she saunters off to buy something else. That's how it's been every day since eighth grade. Today is no different. She stands up and sighs
"Benny's filling in for me; I better get back and help him out."
"Yup" I say my mouth full of bread and peanut butter "See ya at home,"
She forces a disgusted smile and walks away. Our lunch breaks never seem to overlap so she always has to go rescue some obscure cousin from behind a cash register and I'm left to eat alone.
After my allotted half hour lunch is over I walk back to the hospital and continue my rounds. I'm not exactly a doctor or a nurse at the hospital but I still have an important job. I go around and cheer up our long term patients. That's what I'm doing right now. My first patient is an old woman named Joe.
"Hi Joe." I say closing the door quietly.
"Hello Eden dear how are you today?" she asks smiling.
"I'm doing great how are you?"
Our conversation goes on for just over a half hour before Joe will let me move to my next patient. A little boy named Carson. He has the only disease on the planet that we don't know how to cure. The same one that killed my big brother.
