Sweet Charlotte

「 one: peachy keen 」

"Are you ready?"

She was met with silence.

"Oh come on now," the woman said, a faint chuckle in her chest. "Don't leave me in the dark! Can I at least get a yes or no?"

The girl laying in bed turned, her brown, blank eyes meeting that of her nurse.

Ms. Delaney. Willow had to admit, she was someone special. She gave her props for trying to stir up a genuine conversation with Willow before treatment. She tried, and even if it didn't work, trying was all Willow could ask for these days.

"I suppose." Willow finally answered.

Ms. Delaney gave a smile, but Willow knew it was one of pity. They always were.

She was, after all, the only person there with her.

"Tell me more about yourself," she said, plopping herself in the chair to Willow's right, planting her elbows onto her knees and settling her head between her palms. It was moments like these — the instances where Ms. Delaney showed her inner child — that Willow found herself happy.

Willow scoffed, smiling all the while. "You already know everything there is to know."

"That's not true!" Ms. Delaney said, her blonde hair bouncing with her. It was short, but despite it she worked it into a side braid. Willow didn't have the heart to tell her it looked sloppy. It's quirkiness only added to her charm.

Delaney was curvy, and owned a body Willow could only dream off. Her skin looked soft, her cheeks plump with life, her hair soft and glowing, her body warm alive.

Willow wondered what that felt like.

"I don't know the simple things," Delaney continued, straightening her pastel blue scrubs and folding her hands in her lap. "Like your favourite song."

Willow hesitated. She shifted against her pillow, and hated the way the stiff pillowcase sawed her scalp. "I don't have one."

"That's fair, that's a tough question. There are so many good ones." Something about Delaney's innocence, even if it was forced to keep Willow calm, was charming. She felt like Delaney cared, even if she didn't, even if Willow was just another patient.

There was person who always cared. One person that hadn't stopped by in a long while.

Charlotte. Willow missed Charlotte.

"Let's try something easier," Delaney continued. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Pink." Her response was quick and sharp, but carried the lifelessness Delaney had the antidote for.

"Oh! Like peaches!"

Willow raised an eyebrow.

Delaney's excitement deflated, and Willow felt a pang of guilt for being the cause. "I'm only thinking about it because I had a peach for lunch today. We picked up a fresh bunch for home last night."

Home. What a sweet thought.

Charlotte had always reminded her of home. Maybe it was because she was Willow's connection to school — her only real connection to the outside world. The nurses never told her about how beautiful the rain storm was the night before, or about how flowers were starting to grow again, or that the snowfall the night before had covered all the grass trying to wiggle through.

Charlotte always did, though. Charlotte told Willow everything.

"Peaches aren't pink." Willow said, hoping to rid the guilt in her chest. "They're....peachy."