Reaper

The sick man lay on the bed, listening to the rhythmic beep that let the staff know he was still alive.

Watched the liquid drip-drip-drip into the tube that ran to the shunt in his withered hand.

“What for?” he wondered. What for?

The man at the end of his bed spoke then. (How long had he been there?)

“Let me take you” he said. His voice flat. No inflection, no emotion.

“Where?” He wasn’t sure if he’d wheezed it or blinked it. If he’d even made a sound.

The man at the end of the bed looked disinterestedly at his nails.

“If I take you into my confidence about your destination, I won’t be able to help you. You’ll just have to trust .”

Bone tired, the sick man glanced at the machines around him and nodded once.

“Good” said the man at the end of the bed as he stood and smoothed his trousers. He waved the fingers of his hand, a quick close move.

The sick man’s eyes widened. He whispered “Oh” and that was all.

The man at the end of the bed walked out of the room unnoticed as the nurse rushed in.

“Why?” he wondered. “Why do they always want to know where?”

It cut into his time. He had much work to do.

He rounded the corner, found the room he was looking for. He entered, sat on the end of the bed and waited.

This is in response to www.trifectawritingchallenge.com Week 24 prompt.

“between 33 and 333 words, using the 3rd definition of the word provided”

Confidence (noun)

third definition:

a) a relation of trust of intimacy

b) reliance on another’s discretion

c) support especially in a legislative body