(Hopefully anyone on my flist knows I do things like this after thought and consideration and have purpose to follow. That being said, sorry for the drama, if your pup wants to visit the hospital tomorrow or the next day, do so below.Larry spent his second day watching a lot of television, napping, and fussing. He couldn't help the fussing. They
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She really didn't have the time. At all. And the entire drive to Boston had had her on the phone, dictating messages to Chuck, talking to Saudia Arabia (since she was apparently going to be there the following week), and finishing up a few conference calls.
Not only that but she hated hospitals, HATED them, with a passion but she wasn't about to not see him. No matter what. So here she was, heels clicking down the hallway, until she found his room. Leaning on the open doorway, she gave him a smile.
"So non-husband. Fancy meeting you here." If she joked, maybe she could ignore all the machines, and the lights, and the sounds and the hospital smell. Right.
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Patting his legs away, she sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed. "How are you feeling, love? I know that sounds like a stupid question but.. just wondering."
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The nights were a blur for her, mostly, and getting the apartment ready and settling Molly in had taken a lot more time than she thought it would. But that didn't mean she'd forgotten that Larry's closest friend had let them know about his condition.
She went to the living room, plopped on to her favorite chair, and dialed the number of the hospital, asking for Larry Paul's room.
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"Hello?"
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