Murder Mystery - H.S

2

Juliet.

Mornings.

I hate waking up early, still dreaming about being in bed.

I had slept for five hours, was halfway through my second cup of coffee, and was hankering for another cup of fresh coffee and a cigarette.

A sweet cigarette.

I was itching for a cigarette, missing the way my throat itched as the smoke traveled to my lungs. There was no denying the unpleasantness of cigarettes. It tasted like burning paper, but it was burning paper addiction.

It gave me a buzz. Reduces any anxiety it was a good feeling and eased my mind. It seemed enjoyable. But that pleasure will only last a few moments causing me to die for another.

It was an addiction. A bad one. I was good at trying not to smoke while at work, trying my best to keep that part of me away from my work environment. Away from my coworkers and any patients that would spot me from their windows.

However, today I didn't even begin my day with a cigarette. I was late to work so everything moved slowly, from the passing of time to the patients' slow arrival.

It was early in the morning—a slow morning in the hospital. Something out of the ordinary. Perhaps the reason was the outside rain, which kept many away. They remind me of cats. They hate being soaked by the rain. I, however, loved rainy days. It was the only thing that relaxed me. The sound of raindrops hitting the hard ground and the nighttime appearance of the surroundings due to the ominous clouds.

The rumbling. The calmness that emanated from it. Most people despise Rain. It was comparable to the worst possible outcome for some people. Rain is misunderstood, in my opinion. It's not necessarily a bad day just because it's raining.

It is equally as pretty as a sunny day. It's just as beautiful as the warmth the sun provides. I believe that everyone occasionally needs a rainy day. Rain meant less work and less hurriedly pacing the hospital while chatting with angry parents whose children are crying and whining about the pain.

I love my job. My favorite thing in the world but sometimes—sometimes it's hard. It can be quite a lot. It can be stressful, sad, or joyful. It was all up to the child. One of my favorite parts of being a doctor is seeing the kids gradually improve and their smiles return. One of my worst experiences has to be breaking bad news to their parents. It is terrifying. It didn't happen as frequently, but when it did, I felt the pain of the parents.

"Earth to Juliet." The snap of a finger jolted me out of my strange thoughts, and I glared at the man who stood in front of me, laughing.

"Morning," he said taking the coffee from the table and placing it in front of me, "Got you coffee, beautiful."

I blushed, my stomach churning with butterflies and my cheeks aching from the smile I forced. "Good morning, Kasen," I said, half asleep.

I watched Kasen's hazel eyes dipping down to his coffee, opening the lid, and he grinned at me. Despite our coffee maker, Kasen brings me coffee every morning because ' outside coffee is always better,' he says, and he's right. The only problem was I hate dark coffee, which Kasen always seems to bring me.

I couldn't bring myself to tell Kasen that I hated dark coffee. I hated the way it made my tongue taste bitter and the way it made its way down my throat, leaving a nasty taste. I loved coffee with lots and lots of creamer, but he had no idea.

I tense up my face and take a sip anyhow. "Thank you," He hums, brushing his tongue over his lower lip,

"Isn't it a morning beautiful?" Being the first person I spoke to today, I asked him. When I was in the break room, everyone seems to always avoid going in there. Not that I mind, though. Sometimes it was better to be by myself.