Cutting Scenes - The Fine Line

and Dr. Shire stared curiously at the window. “Honestly,” said
Rosewater, “I can’t think of anything worse than those blue
curtains.” He smiled. “Doctor.”
“We know you’ve been through a horrendous ordeal,” said Dr.
Shire, shortening the stem of a yellow flower before placing it
in a glass vase beside Rosewater’s bed, “but you shouldn’t take
it out on people. We’re here to help you.”
Rosewater nodded sadly. “I know, Doctor, I know…”
“Well,” said Dr. Shire, checking the time, “I must be
going. Nurse Diestrum has been assigned to aid you. She’ll be
here shortly.” He turned to leave. “Be nice to her,” Dr. Shire
added. “You’re in good hands.”
Rosewater watched as the blue curtains continued in the
breeze. Then he turned, setting his gaze on the glass vase
beside his bed. The yellow flower floating inside the vase
excited him, and so he rolled up to it. Gently, he ran his
fingers along the stem. When a thorn cut into his thumb, he
plucked the flower from the vase and snapped it in half. Then he
brought his hand over the petals and squeezed, crushing them in
a tight fist. He put what remained into his mouth and chewed,
eventually chasing it with water from the vase. Then he pulled
away the blankets covering his lower half, ignored the new
stumps his accident had given him, and masturbated as the blue
curtains danced some more.
“The sound of your shoes squeaking down the hall amused
me.”
“Why, you must be Mr. Rosewater,” said Nurse Diestrum,
presenting her hand for him to shake.
Rosewater took Nurse Diestrum’s hand in his and stared
longingly at it. “Mother,” he said, now running his bandaged
thumb along her work-worn fingernails, “had hands just like
these. Long, white, and pudgy.”
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