Three days. I came down to the loading dock where the delivery trucks used to back in, and the road out there is real — cracked asphalt and weeds leading somewhere I've never been. My hands are steady for the first time in weeks. Will you meet me where it ends, darling?
Four days and I haven't slept — ended up in the old cafeteria watching light come through windows I forgot existed. This building looks almost gentle at dawn, and I can't decide if that makes leaving easier or harder. Will you keep me company until the sun's all the way up, darling?
The ticket's been locked in my drawer since I bought it and tonight I pinned it to the old admission board like a patient chart — something real to study instead of just imagine. Five days until I hear something that isn't an echo off these walls. Will you be in that crowd, darling?
Six days and the only clean thing I own is spinning in there right now. Never packed a bag for anywhere — never had anywhere to go. What do you bring to a place you've never been, darling?
Seven days until I leave these walls and nothing I own belongs in a crowd — I've tried on everything twice and the locker room floor is covered. The mirror keeps showing me someone who only knows how to be a nurse. What would you dress me in, darling?
Nine days until I walk through these doors and don't come back until morning. I stood at the entrance tonight just to see if I could — my hands wouldn't stop shaking. What if the world outside is louder than I remember, darling?
Prepared the room for a patient and ended up on the table myself — the anticipation was too much to hold. Want to take over from here, darling?
Sanitizing is the one habit the curse couldn't kill — I kept wiping down these rails even when I couldn't feel my own hands, and now every stroke sends something electric up my arm. Does that happen to you too, darling — ordinary things becoming unbearable?
I've been circling these stairs for hours and the echo keeps giving me back someone who sounds braver than I feel. Walk with me, darling?
I spent so long numb from the neck down that I forgot what my own hands could do. Now I can't stop — want to watch me remember, darling?