Ok so this is way off topic for my blog but I heard on NPR about the three minute fiction competition and thought I would try out the second round's prompt: Write a piece of fiction in less than 600 words that begins with the sentence, "The nurse left work at five o'clock." So here's my best shot at it. I haven't sent it in yet...I want to edit it a little more but here's what I've got so far:
Guardian Stalker
The nurse left work at five o’clock. He always does on Tuesdays. I watch him. Today must have been a very hard day. Today he was slumped over with a heavy walk. He barely made it to his car. You could even say his gate was staggered. I watched him you see. I watch him every Tuesday. I get off at 4:45 on Tuesdays just so I can see him.
I’m not a stalker. I don’t know his name. I never follow him home. I just like the way his silky, shaggy hair looks brushing against his scrubs. And every Tuesday a different colored scrub. My favorite is the hot teal, but today he’s in forest green. His faded New Balance shoes don’t seem to be helping him today. They barely get him to the driver’s side. It’s 5:05 already. He’s usually racing off by 5:03. 5:04 at the very latest.
If I were a stalker when I saw the dark form of his silhouette flop onto his steering wheel at 5:07 I would have gone up to the car. Knocked on the window maybe and said, “Excuse me are you alright?” I would be a very polite stalker. If there was something wrong I might run into the hospital and shout, “Quick, quick there’s a nurse in trouble in the parking lot!” thereby saving his life ala Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping, but with fewer awkward moments. In fact wouldn’t we all be much safer if we had our own personal stalkers watching out for us?
But I’m not one. And I’m glad I’m not. Because if I was I would have felt pretty foolish knocking on his car window as he looked up at me with tears in his eyes at 5:10. It’s not my place to find out what he’s crying about. He’s clearly had a really bad day. Maybe his favorite patient died. Or he didn’t remember to give the old lady at the end of the hall her Vicodin and she was in excruciating pain. And who wants to confess all that to a complete stranger while you are crying in your car? Not me, I’ll tell you that.
I really don’t know if he should be driving right now. True, it is 5:14 and that’s about ten minutes later than he usually is but I’d hate to hear about him crashing on the road. Whoever is waiting for him can wait a few minutes more. He should walk around, or grab a cup of coffee first, anything. I should have just….I hope I see him next Tuesday. I’ll get off at 4:30 just to be sure I’m here…just in case he leaves before five. I’m not a stalker, but my Tuesday afternoons would be lonely without him.
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