What she saw stole her innate calm.
She could see from across the room that he was in trouble. A kid, stumbling towards her. Desperate for her.
Eyes wild with fear and fatigue. 14, 15, maybe he's 16?
She knew from experience gained over a few months that he had an hour--maybe--before the weakness she saw stole his primordial drives.
A life is on the line
She wraps the plastic gown around her, she bends the metal of her timeworn mask against the bridge of her nose. She hides her hair in a net. She covers her feet with booties. All done with purpose. All done at full tilt.
His name is Paul. And he is scared.
She is by his side when his eyes roll back in his head. He's still breathing, still holding her hand but his eyes have gone white from the work of it all. His head swivels on its axis from north to south. "Please " is all he can manage to exhale.
"Fuck" she thinks, as his oxygen saturation registers at 20%.
A life is on the line.
10 days later. Countless like him have come and gone.
But, it's the exhausted exhale exchanged in
his final plea
that leaves her breathless now.
A life is on the line