I didn't expect I would actually miss them when they were gone. Even though I knew they would be, eventually. Even though you had told us what was to happen. It was so surprising, you know?
Every time it was the same thing: walking slowly through the corridor, getting into the room, ignoring the never changing chatter of the patient, looking at the clipboard for the right medicine, searching for it over my cart, leaving at the tray, repeating at the next room... I'd began anticipating all of that when I stumbled upon an empty room where there used to be someone. It was surprising, their absence. It startled me.
At first, I couldn't recall who was in that room the day before. I wasn't actually paying attention. But then I remembered: there was someone who would stand by the window, far away from the bed, angered. Their hat would be right by them, hanging at the wall. Just like it would be in my room, right? Because scathered in the last room, there's something from each one of the patients. But when I got to the room at the end of the corridor, it wasn't hanging there either. It was gone.
I'm looking forward to what happens Aug 25th 2017.
Your style in this piece reminisces me about your other works. There's always this unnerving atmosphere that gives me the creeps. A weird, different kind of ugly. And, don't know how do you do that, I can't help but see the beauty of this ugliness.
-----
For anyone else who is reading this and found the description misleading, check in back here next week. They won't be there for long, it seems.
-----
Just so everyone remembers when they are gone:
1st, the worn out actress
2nd, the wounded explorer
3rd, the farmer who wasn't old
4th, the anxious aquarian
5th, the one who awaited
6th, the careful owl