Ficlets

I opened my eyes to blinding white. White sheets, walls, light. White jacket standing at the end of the bed looking at me inquisitively.

A bewildered glance revealed my sisters in the corner with bags under their eyes and relief in their smiles.

I was no longer convulsing, but my eyes would not stop blinking and I still had a stutter.

The white jacket probed with questions bordering on indecent. How did I feel? “Walked on” I replied. Glancing down to wrist with a IV in my hand and bracelets with my name on them. One in a sporty fluorescent orange color. I must of gotten the all inclusive I say. No one is sure if they are supposed to laugh.

The white jacket is still talking and I answer, I think. I don’t know, there seems to be someone missing. White jacket speaks again saying his name.

The man that was in the ER with you last night has been shot.

Suspicious eyes flutter.

I wonder what kind of cruel tests these neurologists (for that’s what his name badge claims him to be) have developed these days.