Chapter Three- Change

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Frank was in and out of consciousness irregularly for the past few days. By the second day, the hospital had already done the paperwork regarding treating Frank like an emancipated minor. I continued visiting Mrs. Smith, who's progress seemed to be retrogressing; if anything, her liver was failing more than ever. I tried to reassure her that they'd find a liver transplant. She didn't believe me, not that I don't blame her; finding a donor is extremely difficult, not to mention, nearly impossible to find a donor who has the same blood and tissue type as the recipient.

I think she accepted the fact that maybe her demise wasn't so far away; she was calm, with a clear head of everything; she was at terms with it because there was nothing she could do.

And I admired that about her.

On Thursday morning, I woke up with unfamiliar dreams; dreams I never dared venture before. They weren't nightmares, per say, but they still stung to the bone. I forced myself to get out of bed. A glimpse of my reflection caught me off guard, I furrowed my brow as I stopped to stand in front of the mirror. I looked young, I had a slight muscular built. I softened my expression, I didn't look all that bad although I felt like shit most days. I sniffled a yawn and made way to shower.

As I showered, I thought and chewed over my life; making a slow incision and pulling every aspect apart. I was only 27 for Christ's sakes. I was still young, I still had time and will on my side. I needed to change my direction, I needed to do something, anything. As I stood there thinking, as warm water trickled down my body. I knew what I needed, I needed change.

I decided to grow a beard.

~

It was quite strange, the mentality shift. It felt forced and intrusive like it didn't belong. I knew I had my best intentions at heart. But I was never good with change. I drove the same car, lived in the same apartment, ate the same food, drank the same beer. I was the same old Gerard. I never changed, I just didn't do know how change; albeit, something in me understood that needed it, now more than ever.

I quickly got dressed, in the same gray uniform that I always wore. I folded my cuffs up, looking at my reflection as I did so. I looked the same as the day before and the one before it, but something in me felt different and changed. Had it really been the image of a poor and miserable boy to make me appreciate how good I had it?

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