𝒯𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓈

Romantic relationships were never my thing, nor was making friends, much less maintaining either. I generally avoided getting close to people beyond the professional sphere; my competitiveness didn't make it any easier. I always told myself that if I couldn't be good personally, at least I would be good professionally. That's how, after so much effort studying and training, I reached my second year of residency. I was working as an emergency room physician at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, better known as The Pitt. That's where I met her. Unlike me, she was a first-year intern at the time, precisely during my first year of residency. And meeting her—meeting her meant a complete overhaul of everything I thought I knew and was generally comfortable with. It started as a fleeting romance, at least at first, but as the months passed, it became serious. I even invited her to live with me. We lived together for about four months, until I messed everything up. I panicked when she said she wanted to take things more seriously with us, mentioning a wedding, maybe adopting a baby. Shit, could she blame me? I didn't get along with babies. I was so tense that I was cruel, I treated her horribly, and I wasn't surprised when she decided to leave, but that didn't make me happy. Hell, I loved that woman and I wanted her back, even if it meant saying or doing things that were like eating razor blades.
Today I was on my usual morning shift, waiting for her, looking around for her. We'd barely exchanged a word since what happened two weeks ago.

“Damn, why is it taking so long to arrive?…”

I murmured, rhythmically tapping the screen of my cell phone with one of my fingers, checking the time and then looking at the hallway waiting for his arrival.