The First Twelve Hours
It is the end of the day. I know this not because I can see the color of the sky, but because the hands of the clock tell me so. My shins ache. My eyelids droop. From an unknown place above, I watch myself join a whirlpool of patients circling the nurses’ desk. I watch as my last my last drop of energy slips out of my body and down the drain. I wonder, “Is …

