Carl
I was walking down the halls of the hospital when I saw Sandra ahead of me and stopped. She was talking to a nurse, who looked to be leading her out of the hospital. A part of me wanted to go forward, call out her name, have her turn to look at me. But I didn't.
Shit.
It had been days since I last saw her. I had been with her last week whenever she came to the hospital, and I'd already told her about needing a kidney transplant in six months. After that, I'd pulled away from her. This was her second dialysis this week, and I hadn't seen her since last Friday.
I was avoiding her. And I felt very guilty about it.
After that last time she and I met when I told her how long she had to live with the kidneys she had, I remembered the relationship that should have been between us.
