The veiny, tan arm of the male nurse, rests too long on Sam's shoulder.
I stand outside of the door's frame until the ******* gives me an
"uh--", loosens his cords with a saliva hack, nods
and brushes past me on his way out.

Sam looks like she found herself on the receiving end
of a riot at the gates of hell.

I take one last suckoff from my fast food straw, making that
obnoxious vacuum noise.
Sam's navy blue lids flutter, open, she connects.
"Oh -- hey, man. How's it goin'?" she asks taken aback.

"Not too bad, lady."

"Why are you dressed so nice?"

"Um, I--uh just got back," exhale, "from your mom's thing."

"Gawd," her lids close tight, nose scrunches.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," the cliché sentiment bounces
off the ancient yellow walls with a awkward thud -- falls to the floor.

Soap opera dialogue from a microscopic, mounted television makes its presence known during a dense break in our conversation.

I sit down in the chair next to her hospital bed.

"What are you staring at?" she spits.

"Just you, you look so small."

"Hospital food tastes how funeral homes smell."

"How long have you been in here?"

"Closing in on two weeks. That's why it took
so long for them to bury Mom.
We were hoping I could come."

"Ahh, gotcha. Why are they keeping you?"

"A few of those internal ***** injuries that
get doctors in a tizzy. Was Gloria there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, her and her family."

"Stuff still weird with you guys?"

"There isn't 'stuff'."

She fidgets, "You know what I miss most about my mom?"

"What's that?"

"Anytime I was feeling like **** she would cradle me,
and kiss my forehead. Made ya feel safe you know?"

I get up, sit on the edge of her bed, wrap one arm cautiously around her.
"Is this okay?"

"Perfect."

I brush her extremely light, blonde hair into curtains around her forehead.
She closes her eyes as I kiss. Her hand grips my wrist tightly.

"All better?"

She grins slowly, "Maybe one more."

I bend down, she elevates before I can reach her brow,
snags the **** hanging about my neck, and crashes her lips
hard into mine.

She moves her lips desperately, ferociously --
clasping them tightly to mine.
My head starts to get light, my hand runs down her side.

"Ahhhem."

We quickly tear our stitched lips free.

Gloria walks out the door.