8:44 PM - BITTY

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As Nurse McSexy walks towards Bubbles with the rolled paper, he notices me crouching behind her shins. "Do I even--."

"It looks very Monica Lewinsky'ish," I interrupt, crawling on my hands and knees to get out from under the counter. "But I swear--it's not."

As I stand, McSexy lets the paper unfold so it flops in front of my face.

"What's this?" I ask, taking the printout from him.

"Summary of your visit and instructions for medication," he answers. "You can officially go home now."

I give my Urgent Care data a quick scan. "That's it? No reason why I got a bitch of an itch?"

"Nope," the nurse replies bluntly. "Sometimes even science and medicine can't explain why things happen."

I turn to Bubbles with the hope maybe she has a different answer.

"Don't look at me," the nurse's assistant warns. With a thumb pointing to McSexy, she adds, "My job is to agree with this guy."

"Seriously?" I whine. "My skin was attacked by a mystery?"

McSexy leans in and kisses the top of my head. "You're the mystery." With a grin, he adds, "Your plan worked, by the way."

"Plan?" I question, attempting to give off the impression I'm not an eavesdropper.

"You were snoop doggin' under the counter," McSexy replies with a raised eyebrow. "Don't act like you don't know."

Bubbles chimes in. "I only saw the part where Doc lost his shit because you out-Godded him. What did I miss?"

McSexy steps backwards into the hallway, fighting to keep a smile from growing too large on his face. "That was pretty much it." Pointing to me he adds, "You're my soul mate! Thank you!" He turns and struts towards an examination room--throwing a kiss and a wave over his shoulder as he walks away.

Before reaching his destination, he stops

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Before reaching his destination, he stops. Turning to face me he adds, "I take that back. It wasn't a mystery that brought you here--it was fate. Fate wanted you right here, right now. I'm glad fate sent you." With a wink, McSexy disappears into someone else's examination room.

Again, I turn to Bubbles for some sort of wisdom, but all I get is a sassy expression and a thumb pointing to my room. "Girl--go put some pants on!"

Only me, I think to myself as I mope back to room 21. Only I would be attacked by a mystery.

I close the door and throw the hospital gown on the table-bed. Forgoing a bra, I pick my Chili Bowl sweatshirt up off the floor and pull the worn-out piece of clothing over my head. As I'm smashing my bra into my purse, I'm reminded of the time when my face smashed into PamPam's boobies.

I chuckle to myself. That happened.

Thoughts of PamPam's breasts slowly switch to memories of seeing myself reflected in her eyes. The emptiness. Cruelness. Being lost and unable to find a way home. Why?

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