my best life 07.10.17.1204P

“I’m so sorry…” I told her with a smile. “I didn’t mean to
yell at you… I hope you can understand.”
“Honey,” she responded, “I have been a nurse for twentyseven-years
and have heard and seen a lot worse. You’re
a good man, I could tell that the first time we met.”
“Thank you.” I told her.
She handed me the envelope with my discharge papers
inside. “Good lucky, honey.” she said, “…you’ll do fine.” I
began to walk towards the ward entrance and then
stopped. I turned, and walked back to Retta and asked,
“What happened to John?”
Her face suddenly turned serious. Pausing for a moment,
she said “I don’t know Mr. Thompson.” Listening to
heard words did not give me an answer, but looking into
her eyes she was trying to tell me something.
Her experience and professionalism would not allow her
to speak but she sensed my genuine concern for him and
did her best to relay a feeling with her tone and a look of
sadness in hopes that I would understand.
I asked for a pen, and she handed me one from her pocket.
I reached into my back pocket and got the folded paper.
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