When you think about nurses and all, you usually expect them to look a certain way. I mean, I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but nurses are usually middle-aged. This one looked younger than me, which was saying something, because I had to stand up to get a damn drink at a club.

This one had something else— probably the fresh-graduate vitality behind her eyes. I guessed that she'd probably lose it when she got a bedpan launched at her or something. Boy, some of the characters in here killed me, they really did. Not that I necessarily approved of their antics, of course not, but the absurdity was comical.

It got me kind of pensive, looking at this girl. I thought about whether I'd dedicate my days to bathing and feeding people. I decided that I would certainly not. I'd get too worked up about the countless phonies I'd encounter, and I'd probably tell them 'to wash their own damn hair'.

The girl was being led around the common area by the lead nurse, who was clearly dictating how things were run. I didn't like her all that much, because I hadn't seen her clean up bodily fluids or coax a patient into bed, not even once. All she seemed to do was scribble down on her chart and distribute everyone's medications like she was the queen of the nurses. I had a lot more respect for the nurses who were lower in the pecking order.

The lead nurse was leading the girl on a circuit around the room, introducing her to all the other sick bastards that were cooped up in this place. When she greeted them, her hand would twitch a little, like she was restraining herself from offering a handshake. That killed me, her wanting to shake hands with people who opted for using their hands as handkerchiefs. I knew she'd get around to me soon, so like anyone who doesn't want to be seen as some sort of creep or pervert, I began to pick at my fingernails.