Beatrice barely stirs at Nurse Mona’s cool touch. Though Beatrice has been slowly losing her grip on the firmness of the lines between then, now and never has been, Nurse Mona’s deep red curls and sometimes warm eyes have remained a singular constant. Beatrice doesn’t know if she has family that visits or not, but sometimes she has the notion that there was once a gaggle, kittens, she used to call them even though they weren’t kittens at all.
Nurse Mona watches Beatrice’s eyes move and a small smile play on her lips and wonders what visions Beatrice watches on the back of her blue-veined eyelids. Nurse Mona notes that she is gently caressing the same spot on Beatrice’s forearm with the pad of her thumb, as if prepping the spot, even though that is not the proper place for this injection. Nurse Mona knows that this plunge through the onion-skinned webbing of Beatrice’s toes, not only opens the door to redemption but blocks the way back. When she fully realizes her potential it will be the height of her accomplishments, a feeling she will never again be able to achieve no matter how often she tries.
“Kittens, all so different,” murmurs Beatrice.
With a roll of her eyes Nurse Mona quickly and efficiently injects Beatrice with her special brand of euthanasia, and doesn’t even bother to watch Beatrice’s lungs stir the antiseptic air with their last breeze.
“Ye Gods, if there is one thing this world can do without, it’s another crazy cat lady. Horrid, horrid things,” she says under the sound of beating wings.
Inspired by Trifecta’s word of the week:
DOOR 3: a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>