Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
_______________________________________
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ii. A DAY'S WORK.
SADNESS.
Grief.
Pain.
Joy.
Fear.
Anger.
So many emotions in such a small space, tucked away into pockets scattered throughout the large building, shifting from row to row, floor to floor, all the way back to her. Emotions were a tedious thing, always changing or never making an effort too, either by a partner that matches as an equivalent as joy can be to excitement, as anger can be to pain. Kenna couldn't say that she was all surprised given the environment of which she stood, ranging from what felt like an unfathomable amount of hours worked with so much as a coffee and a thirty- forty if she were lucky- minute bound of sleep before her pager went off.
Or someone felt anew, and began her process all over again.
The sharp scents of sickness, disinfectant, and coffee were an oddity of smells that, to anyone in their right mind would be able to figure out, were not supposed to go together as a trio. Maybe as duo, excluding one word in particular, but the scent Kenna had learned to adapt to over the years. She had too, given that this was her life's work, her chosen path.
"You're doing it again," a voice spoke. Kenna peeled her eyes open, blinking slightly at the sudden harshness of the luminescent reflecting off the white tiles before drifting her attention to the woman beside her. Dirty blonde, more so of a brunette of any occurrence that fit the word, strands curled at her neck from faint sheet of sweat. Ashen cheeks dusted with freckles jawed out, adding more definition to the expression registering on her face. "You're doing that thing where you, where you zone out right after dealing with a difficult case but you don't want to admit that it was difficult."
Kenna let out a grunt in displeasure at the tension reading, raising a hand to massage the base of her forehead when she felt a sudden pulse spike throughout her nerves. "Guilt can be a powerful thing," she thought as she flickered her attention quickly to a teenage girl who sat hunched over in a plastic chair, with obvious discomfort, but the unsteady gaze in her eyes and reddened cheeks from crying spoke volume for other matters floating within her heart. Especially with her occasional glances towards a closed room where someone behind it held importance to her.
