Signed, Anna Maria

Chapter 21

"Am I boring you?" Said Florencia

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Well, you're not paying attention to me. You've been writing things down this entire time. I suppose you're not writing notes." I put the ribbon in-between my notebook pages "I was" I objected. Florencia snickered mischievously, in only a way that she could. She turned back to the man in the bed that she had been working on while I had been writing.

"Annnnnd one more." She snipped away the last thread on a stitch on the man's stomach. He winced under her hand.

"Gracias." He groaned.

"De nada. Now please sir, for Christ's sake, be careful. It'll be quite fragile for the first couple days, okay?" The man nodded as he pulled down his chemise.

"I'll be back in a day or so to look at those stitches again." She added. The man clutched his newly stitched stomach and lay back down again. "Get some sleep for now." She advised.

Florencia packed up her sewing materials and put them back into her apron pocket. Turning back to me she said "I have no problem with you bringing your book. I would just hate to be a third wheel is all." We both let out a small, laughing smile as Florencia finished packing her medical equipment.

In the months since I started being schooled there, Florencia and I had developed a type of bond. I had even come to regard her as a friend. I would see her in class, she and I would often sit next to each other, compare notes and help each other when appropriate. She was highly intelligent, Sister had not been kidding when she had talked about Florencia being one of the smartest kids she taught.

We shared some similar interests, reading for one. It was thanks to her that I had been introduced to Voltaire's plays and Mr. Shakespeare's poetry. Sometimes, if I was up for it, in the very early hours of the morning, I would go to the orphanage to help Florencia with the patients and then attend mass at the parish church nearby.

I knew nearly nothing about medicine, hardly understood it. Sister made us learn the basics of it in school, but I always had to ask Florencia for assistance when I did it. I don't know what it was, but I couldn't tell you anything about the human body. I knew how to dress a wound, and how to make a cure-all pain killer for the common cold. That was as far my medical knowledge stretched.

Florencia, on the other hand, was a star pupil. She didn't even go to those classes. Sister had excused her from them, but she still showed up sometimes to help teach the class. Her healing talent really shown through when she worked. Yes, all she was doing was stitches, but you could have sworn she was preforming some sort of life-saving surgery. She did everything with precision and caution. Her pinpoint focus and overwhelming precision was nearly magic to watch.

I picked up my book and held it at my side as Florencia moved across the aisle of rail beds.

"What are you writing there anyway?" She inquired "You always have that book with you, but you always close it before I can take a look."

"Poetry, mostly." I answered

"You're a poet?"

I nodded shyly, Florencia smirked even wider.

"So what do you write about?"

"What do I write about?"

"Well, yeah! You have to write about something, unless you write poems about nothingness."

I suddenly felt a little gun-shy about answering. Absolutely no one had taken an interest in it before.

"Life?" I said