Catherine slid the blue apron over her regular dress and stepped into the first patient's room. A light green curtain was pulled in front of the bed. She tied a mask around her mouth and approached the bed, and pulled the curtains back.
"Hello," a young man said, sitting in a chair at the end of the patient's bed. He had a mask tied over his mouth like Catherine's, and was leaning in, his chin resting on his folded hands. His long black hair was pulled back into a tight tail at the nape of his neck, and one of his eyes was discolored.
"Hello." Catherine replied, furrowing her brow. "I'm sorry, but you're too early for visiting hours. We still have to do daily check-ups. We'll be ready in about half an hour."
"You don't remember me, do you?" He asked, smiling at her.
Catherine shook her head, "Sorry, sir, I've never seen you before. I have to get to work, though, so if you would please leave-" she stopped, as the man stood up and came closer to her. He took her hand and bowed, kissing it.
"You really don't remember me?" he asked as he righted himself, their eyes meeting.
"No, I don't." Catherine's rage began to build up as her frustration mounted, "No will you please-"
The man brought his face forward and kissed her stoutly on the mouth. Drawing himself back, he asked again, "You don't remember me?"
Catherine's piercing glare was upon him.
"I'll kill you while you sleep."
Of course, though, she said this to the one person she couldn't kill.
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Withering Away
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