06 June 2009

Jacob #1 2009-06-05 13:13

I look down and I can't believe this. I mean, my loafer is literally soaked in blood. And I'm at the front desk, and there's Sheila, and I - wow - I, I honestly don't know what to say. Balls, she's noticed, and now she's running around the desk.
I'm trying to answer her. God I am such a weak man. Ever since I was ten the sight of blood made me faint, and now, in front of Sheila of all people, I, I...
The next thing I know I am looking at a man in a white coat, and all I can think is, how did I get here. He's asking me all sorts of questions about drug usage and he's writing something in that awful black pad of his and I can see Sheila, but she doesn't seem to look at me. She looks...no...not angry, well, yes she looks angry, but why does she look so scared?
And what is this doctor saying to me about more tests and confirmations? I quit smoking ten years ago. I don't eat red meat. What tests do they need, I simply stepped on a broken bottle or-
Oh my god.
Oh my god.

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