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3. Dryas
3 Dryas “Monsieur Aétos?” The kindly older nurse pops her head around the curtain that separates my hospital bed from prying eyes. Her French accent is thick, her light grey scrubs a little too tight. “You should have the, uh… the privileges of using the telephone?” She holds her hand up to her ear in the pantomime of making a phone call. I grimace as I lean over to the landline phone on the bedside table, picking up the receiver. I was not hurt in the accident, but my whole body was bruised, and I am feeling it right now. A dial tone buzzes in my ear, so I hang the phone up. “It works. Merci, madame.” I nod to her. “Any luck getting me some pants?” Since I got to the hospital still wearing Ari’s blood, I was given a hospital gown to wear. I have never felt quite as emasculated as I d
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- chap_listÍndice
- likeAÑADIR
