Angel's spot

C H A P T E R E I G H T

6.04 p.m

I glanced to my watch, the stick having just run over twelve, making it four minutes past six. Of course. Always four. It seemed as if was that number following me.

It must have been at least a half an hour since I arrived at the station, refusing to make the same mistake again.

Waiting was always hard for me. It sounds easy, too. Just sit still, relax. But waiting becomes frantic almost, when you're waiting for something. And something always seems to push even further, a side effect of being impatient, along with the fear of what will happen next. Thirst. Hunger. Full bladder. Aching muscles. Maybe even, just simply being bored.

But after many years in the hospital, watching Aden's clock run out, I learned to wait. It was slow at first, then it began to increase speed until the day where all side effects kicked in. We would sit there, day in, day out. Outside the sun would rise and fall, but besides that I had no acknowledgment of what happened outside room 444. For a week, all we did was wait. Wait for the machines around and attached to him to finally go off, all of them at once, making the endless wait suddenly end.

I remember chanting in my head; begging to make it stop. It was unbearable, all of it. Watching my mom crumble as her son turned into a cauliflower. Watch as more and more machines were attached to the person, laying in the bed in front of me, whom I barely recognized anymore. Watching in the mirror, as my own eyes lost all spark. All desire to try, fight, until they just looked blank.

And then one day, it stopped. "I promise, pea,"

That day, all the machines off, my mother screaming almost in the same tone. A nurse held her back, as doctors rushed in. In the matter of seconds, he disappeared behind the wall of blue attire they all wore.

I hadn't even made my way out of the room before the show began, the last one of them all. It is like the last book or movie in a series, everyone expects something huge. And it surely, was.

My eyes landed on the letter A.

A big bold letter hanging on an otherwise yellow brick wall. It had been written on the wall right above the staircase which led down to the station. In the daytime the subway would be seething with people leaving and arriving, but now personal space once again occurred. Somehow, though, not walking shoulder to shoulder with every stranger passing by, seemed to make it even more awkward.

When it would be swarming, no one cared about anyone. Other people were just objects in your way. However nice or rude they were, pushing or stepping aside, you barely acknowledged half of the faces.

But now, those faces were all looking at each other, studying and in the end; judging.

I decide to find my spot on a pastel yellow bench, placing my backpack next to me. I pull out my phone, flickering through messages I've already read, finding any reason to not look up.

As my eyes pretended to focus on my screen, my ears studied every single sound it cot. A sneeze from the younger woman in the red raincoat I passed before; a cough from her son.

A ringing tone appeared next to me, followed by a 'hello'. Deep voice, elder man, I guessed. I glanced to the left, seeing a bald elderly man, talking to the phone he was holding up by his ear.

As a repulse, my eyes widened with the gentle touch of a hand on my shoulder. Before I could turn around, the hand disappeared, its owner appearing in front of me.

Calvin squatted down in front of me, his hand now resting on the bench beside my thigh. He saw the surprise register on my face before I could hide it. A small smile played on his lips, before he spoke; "Hey,"