19 hours, 56 minutes...
Camila is dreaming of raven dark hair and stunning green eyes when her coworker, Ally, comes to find her sometime long past the end of her shift.
A chair scraping aggressively on the floor has Camila snapping awake, her head shooting up off the tabletop. She blinks, wiping at her eyes and taking in her surroundings.
The silver metal chairs had been flipped upside down and placed neatly atop their matching tables. The only light comes from the emergency lights casting a gentle glow over the room. Camila's table is the only one that remains in its uniform position, which she's sure the janitors are unhappy with. The hospital cafeteria closed at ten o'clock, after all.
Camila normally takes her paperwork here during her meal breaks. Anyone within this sullen room is usually as quiet as a mouse. The break room itself is always swarming with people, and she finds that she's able to get a lot more work done in the public dining hall.
Though apparently, not this evening. The puddle of drool on a patient release form is enough evidence of that. She makes a mental note that four night shifts in a row is not a good idea to attempt again.
Her focus settles in on Ally, who takes a seat across from her. Ally sets two cups of coffee onto the table, sliding one closer to Camila.
Camila slowly reaches for the cup, accepting it with a grateful yet unenthused upturn of her lips. She mumbles a quiet thanks as she takes a sip.
"Why do you keep working overtime?" Ally furrows her brows worriedly at Camila, "I feel like every time I see you, you're sleeping somewhere. Just last week, you fell asleep at my desk."
"Your desk has a comfier chair than mine does," Camila tries to avoid the question, grabbing a packet of sugar as Ally tosses it across the table to her. She tears off the top, dumping the contents into her drink and stirring lazily with the straw Ally had provided. At the disapproving look on Ally's face, she sighs and stares down into her drink, "I need the money, Ally. That's all."
"Are you having difficulty keeping up with your rent?" Ally pesters, "You know I can help you, hun. I've offered a million times—"
"No! No," Camila shakes her head quickly, trying to cover up her panic by taking a slow sip, "I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me, I can handle it fine on my own."
"Okay, well..." Ally draws, leaning back in her chair, "Are you... sure it has nothing to do with... you know..." Ally suggests, Camila knowing exactly what she's talking about solely through the tone of her voice. She hides her hand under the table.
"Yeah, I'm not worried about that..." She plays it cool, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Alright... but only if you're sure."
Camila takes a moment to look over her friend; she eyes the messy hairs that had broken from her otherwise perfect bun, the wrinkles in her scrubs, and the bags under her eyes only slightly concealed behind her glasses... And she's worried about me?
The truth is, the clock on Camila's wrist is all she can think about. After all, it contained all she'd ever dreamed about as a kid. So many times she'd fantasized about the excitement and romance that would come about with the meeting of her person... Only now that it's finally happening, she's not sure if she'll be able to handle it.
Her insecurities had only multiplied over the years. Constant curveballs had been thrown in her direction throughout the past few years, and she doesn't want to drag down the person that's supposed to mean everything to her. She doesn't want the perfect image she'd created in her mind to be shattered by her own life choices.