-Oh but really doctor, you mustn’t-

Agnnn, he growled, lifting the bundle in his arms, wrapped in sterile cloth, the sound of tattering metal following his voice as he disturbed the cart-shaped mirror that held the instruments and several silver bowls of fluids. The patient lay looking dead but still as if she were about to speak. And while of course she went undisturbed throughout the event, one must wonder where in the patient’s brain was stored all that her ears had meanwhile absorbed.

He never looked up. The fluids were settling back to motionless as he navigated the hospital hallways, his name badge tucked into his hip pocket. He moved in hurried, awkward paces, past the nurses station where someone called out to him.

He started into an ugly gallop. The bundle in his arms and his rumpled hair made him look like he was stealing a baby. A door opened for him- excuse me came two eyes that narrowed as they turned to watch the doctor descend the stairs. Both feet slammed each step flat, the sound of which hung in the air behind him like a noxious cloud, hovering low and yellow.

The stairs took him counterclockwise and downward dizzying in the solid dull atmosphere of walls. With each step he re-tightened his grip on the bundle, his haste soon abandoned, intent on precision, echoes consuming his last grasp of faint reason, still several floors from the exit.

The breaking glass came before the thud, followed by the blood, absorbing directly into the sterile cloth still held tight in the doctor’s arms. The patient lay dead but looking still as if she were about to speak.