The Chime of Bluebells

8

Two days passed quickly in the hospital, mostly because time often flew when busy. These past 48 hours had been spent on school work, for most part the courses in the organism's diversity and phylogeny, evolutionary thinking or biochemistry. I got stuck in the fundamentals of carbohydrates and the molecules construction of C, H and O. It's very basic knowledge in biochemistry, but this polyhydroxy is definitely my favorite considering it's commonly known as sugar, because of its sweet taste. Although, not all of them are sweet, but the majority—like bunnies: most of them are cute, but some are devious. And all who knows me, knows about my super sweet tooth.

When I didn't study the literature, my mind wandered off to deep green eyes behind bars. I reminded myself repeatedly to think happy thoughts, but as you all may know, such a task is easier said than done. To keep Malachi at bay, I constantly had to busy myself with other things. One thing that never failed me, and always calmed my disquiet nerves, was drawing or painting. Many times, I found myself sneaking out in the middle of the night to take a right turn down the hall to the emergency stairwell. Silently, I made my way up the five and a half flights to a loft left forgotten in the hospital. I liked it because it was a quiet place and it had a huge window at the far wall, overlooking the city. Occasionally, red and blue sirens would stand out from the millions of firefly lights far below. The night shone with beauty beyond comparison. This night, I took a seat by the window with my canvas—a stained pillowcase I'd overheard two nurses converse about trashing, and saved—and a couple of my finest brushes.

Doctor Doroweigh had come by my room earlier that day and we'd talked about the lab's progress. There hadn't been any word from them yet, but my condition was nothing out of the ordinary and I was from tomorrow on free to check-out from Queen Margaret's Hospital. If something out of the ordinary was to occur, I could call Doroweigh directly and talk with him. Before leaving, he'd left a contact card and wished me good luck with my studies.

So, in the morrow, I was free to leave this place behind and get back to my life. The life that still seemed very bestrange than a few nights ago. It wouldn't be a back-to-normal kind of comeback, which I so desperately wanted. I wanted to go home with my family and have our fight in the car about which music would blast through the speakers the forty minute drive; I wanted to go back to my school and studies; help dad with his small herb garden after his long politician duties were "over" for the day; watch the new Merdía's Masterchef 2125 and Merdía's Masters Bakers 2125. But most of all, I wanted to take the bus to Aleensburg and to a specific person who always had a smile on his lips when laying eyes on me, no matter how tired from work he was.

I focused on setting up my painting stack and tied my hair in a low ponytail, but as I starter coloring the pillowcase, my head still wandered off to Malachi. I couldn't help to think about him when painting the lights, remembering New Years with Malachi in the loft in an abandon barn he'd rented cheap and fixed. I'd been taken there with blindfold and when it had been removed, all I saw was complete darkness and there, the outline of a lighter grey contour of a building. From the door ajar, light poured out into the night. It was the most beautifully set up romantic date I'd ever seen. Even dates in movies looked cheap in comparison. Besides, it had been outside of town and a small get-away with only Malachi. Far away from all my obligations and studies as a daughter of Eli Langner and a top student. It had been against Lee's recommendations, but we'd gone anyway.

Suddenly the door cracked open to the loft and a faint thumping sound grew louder.

"So this is your escape from the white coats, huh?"

"I'm not sharing."

"Too bad I don't care."

Always his arrogant self. His sarcasm, however, made up for his careless demeanor.