my best life 07.10.17.1204P

my body. With determination I stomped down the
hallway leaving wet footprints on the tile. Some patients
looked up and others seemed unfazed by this naked man
briskly walking down the hall. This was an uncommon act
in a place where uncommon acts were common.
I was leaving a trail of onlookers behind me. John, a
patient who would later become my friend, was standing
just inside his room finishing a nutrition bar when I
passed his doorway. He would later confess to me that all
he saw was “some naked white guy walking down the hall
who looked like he was on a mission.”
I made my way to the nurse’s station located at the center
of the ward. I stood in front of the reception window
holding my hand towel with both hands in front of me,
water droplets still clinging to my hair; I was mad as hell.
I no longer concerned myself with procedures, protocol or
the basic manners my mother taught me. A rather large
nurse, named Retta, was in the nursing station typing on
a computer and she suddenly stopped. She rolled her eyes
up and saw me standing there through the glass partition
window in distress. The hint of a smirk curved the corner
of her mouth. She took her long pink diamond studded
fingernail and slid the glass window open slowly.
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