I wrote things.
It was Tuesday. Nolan could never get the hang of Tuesday. It was no different now. He had an important interview today. The alarm didn't go off. The sounds of Mira from upstairs roused him.
He jumped out of bed, stubbed his toe and fell forward. He bruised his face. His suit was still wet. The dryer was broken--again.
He couldn't find the razor or the spare. Typical Tuesday. He left his very important looking briefcase behind as he hobbled out the door.
He rounded the corner and made it just in time to watch the bus he very much needed depart. Taxies hated this street. He'd have to walk three more blocks to hail one.
He resisted checking the time. He hated being late. He waited for the oppressive hand to be replaced by the walking man.
He walked a few steps before the car knocked him down.
He did not make it to his interview.
Avery got what she wanted. She set her goals and took the time and effort to achieve them. She had a fairly decent paying job, a fantastic apartment, and appropriate friends.
The only trouble she had was love. Romance. Avery had a concept of this. But no one had reached her expectations. Her parents tried to guide her in this department.
“You don't know what you want. It's not something you just squire.” Her mother told her one Sunday.
“Love is a delicate flower,” her father added, “ it needs to be nurtured. “ He proceeded to pour the rest of his wine into her cactus.
She hasn't invited to Sunday Brunch since.
“Love is like your favorite pair of shoes. Sure, it starts off pretty and comfortable, but you mold it. It fits for awhile, but it ages and wears down. Then you say goodbye and get the next pair.”Her friend Claire offered this.
Whatever love was or is supposed to be, Avery wanted it on her terms.
She needed someone.
When the light turned red on a Tuesday she saw a face. She pressed hard against pedal.
This is how she met Nolan.
It was bright. Very much so. Nolan blinked and soon regretted opening his eyes.
“Ah. Good you're awake, now look at me.”
He did not want to.
“I’m not leaving until you do, so you might as well behave for me. Don’t make me pull your lids open.” Something about the way the stranger said, made him believe they would. So, obedient at long last, he open his eyes and lifted his head to the source of the voice.
“Good.” The nurse shined a light into his eyes. He followed as asked. He wanted the light to go away as soon as possible.
“Your vitals are more stable. We should be releasing you soon. Maybe in the next few days. You are really lucky to be alive. That car really did a number on you. Your girlfriend's a hero.”
Nolan did not have a girlfriend and believed he misheard the nurse. He let the odd sentence pass and tried to drift back to sleep.
“You still have that nasty concussion. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Eyes closed once more, he welcomed darkness, his friend. His eyes fluttered. There was some kind of shadow. A flash. He felt his lips frown,.
“I brought you coffee.” A new voice. A feminine voice he did not know. Doctor? Nurse? He opened his eyes.
“You look better today.” She took a seat by the window and opened a magazine.
He noted the said coffee was by his bedside on the little end table. He liked tea, not coffee. He did not like to upset people, so he intended to drink it to avoid offending her.
“Were you the one who helped me?”
She not not look up to him, her attention remained on the magazine.
“No. The paramedics and nurses helped you. I called for them.” She sounded irritated. Nolan felt sick.
“Well, thank you for calling them.. You don’t have to stay to--you don’t have to stay.” He finished lamely.