Pyg

2

SPRING HAS SPRUNG

A lice rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and hard-blinked when they came away black with the remnants of her mascara. The pink dawn glow backlit the hospital’s multi-storey car park, blurring the straight lines of its brutalist concrete mass. Even her shitty little Ford Fiesta looked almost pretty in this early morning light.

Searching for her car keys, Alice rooted around in her Tardis-like tote bag until her fingers latched onto the source of the jangle. She chucked her bag onto the passenger side, hitched up her coat, and folded herself into the driver’s seat. Condensation covered the windows from the late-night drive and the sweaty exertion of lugging the man into her car, but the heater would clear them soon enough and she’d be on her way. A hot cup of tea, followed by a shower. Then bed, where she could sleep away the rest of this disastrous weekend.