thelyricalmuses #36
Lisa was pale, the skin around her eyes colored with fatigue. She must have been standing there for a hour at least, the entire duration of the surgery that Stacy had told her not to watch. It wasn't going to do any good, sitting here like this with raw deliberation running through her veins. If Lisa kept watching, waiting, and trying she was going to drive herself mad. There was no easy way around what had happened.
The folder in her arms was tucked close and Stacy made the decision to go to her friend. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, for Stacy detested hospitals. It was something that had been with her since before Greg's infarction, from when her mother died. Hours had gone by with the sterile scent cloying her nose, the endless game of waiting stretching out before her in an interminable length.
She hated it then and despised it now.
Lisa turned then in response to a question Stacy didn't remember asking, and then she was effortlessly tossing out advice, confidence, and the precision of the law. It didn't matter now, the past. At least, not as much as it had before.
It couldn't matter when lives were at stake, waiting. Waiting for a choice that wasn't theirs or that of the doctors to make at all.