summer 2004.

leon hated hospitals. the doctor’s office forced him to be vulnerable, stripped of all bravado and stoicism. being surrounded by death with no way to stop it wasn’t easy, either.

you sit in the waiting room, waiting for him to come back out. you offered to stay in the doctor’s office with him, but he insisted he’d be fine, he’s a grown man, come on.

so you waited outside, watching the little kids play with the wooden toys and older women read magazines as they wait.