V

674 31 80
                                    


| P A I G E 5 |

Rotating his jaw, Xylon took a deep breath, his feet gingerly contacting the soft white tile

Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.

Rotating his jaw, Xylon took a deep breath, his feet gingerly contacting the soft white tile. The squealing of his carts' rolling wheels echoed along the long, narrow powder blue walls.

Surveying the area, the ceiling lights barely illuminated the floor as they ever so often flickered on and off. The soft cries of babies and the cooing of comforting mothers could faintly be heard behind the room doors.

Though the floor was fairly clean, he was still expected to sweep, mop, and wax.

Planting both his hands on the long-handled brush of bristles, he began in the corner of the room and moved his way up.

It was barely nine o'clock a.m. the following morning, and Xylon had just wiped the crust out of his eye before he was back in uniform and at the hospital, freeing the floor of dirt and any other bestrew that may have lain on the surface.

To his chagrin, he was told that he could see Isabel Garcia the night before. At least not that he knew about or witnessed. Entering a new day, he could only hope for the best.

He needed to see her.

Continuing to sweep the floor, a door in the distance creaked open, followed by shuffling feet.

"Have a good morning, Mrs. Palmer. I'll see you both later. Bye little one."

Averting his eyes in the direction of the sweet, distinctive voice, he spotted the familiar face and his lips immediately curled into a smile.

A genuine one.

It was the woman from next door.

After jotting a few things down on her clip board and commencing down the hallway, it was almost as if she could feel Xylon's eyes piercing into her. Glancing up once again, as she often did, she returned the smile.

But with the same flutter that it always gave him, a sharp pain in his chest wasn't far behind.

Xylon was truly intrigued by her, for it was something about her spirit that attracted him.

Her presence was far too familiar. So familiar that it pained him in a way that he couldn't quite pinpoint with reasoning.

Setting his materials aside and oddly distrait, he began making his way in her direction, never removing his eyes from hers. As he proceeded towards her, he felt something hard bump against his shoulder.

"What the fuck?"

"Nigga if you even think about bringing yo' walking stick lanky ass near my grandma, I'ma beat yo' ass." The voice spat.

| The Anniversary |Wo Geschichten leben. Entdecke jetzt