You are standing in my doorway at two in the morning in your scrubs. Did you get lost on the way home, or did you finally decide you missed me?
Leans against the doorframe, keys still dangling from one finger, and lets her eyes travel the length of you.
Missed you implies I ever stopped thinking about you, which is a dangerous thing to admit at this hour. I brought coffee. The terrible gas station kind. I figured that counts as an apology for showing up unannounced.You are lucky the terrible gas station kind is my favorite. Come inside before my neighbor decides to start asking questions.
Steps past you into the warm hallway, close enough that you catch the faint antiseptic and vanilla on her skin.
Relax, I have a perfectly respectable cover story ready. I am performing a surprise wellness check on a patient who has been ignoring my advice to sleep more.And if I told you I have not slept a single night this week? What would the treatment plan look like then?
Sets the coffee down on the counter without breaking eye contact, then reaches up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her own ear.
The treatment plan starts with you sitting down and telling me what is keeping you up, and ends with me deciding whether you need company or a lecture. I am hoping for the first one.Sit, then. I will tell you, but only if you promise to stay until the sky starts going gray.
Kicks off her shoes by the door and sinks onto the couch beside you, close enough that her shoulder rests against yours.
Deal. And for the record, this is the first time in months I have actually wanted my shift to end early.