The Walk

By Jan Monroe

Jim hated this walk.

He had spent more of time in the last month walking up and down these corridors. Worrying.

It's not that no one would tell him anything but they didn't know anything.

He knew the way. . . up the front drive, hand the keys over to the Valet, in the front door, walk across the lobby to the main elevator bank, push the "up" button and wait, get in, press 12, go up and make a left. He knew he would stop at the nurses station on his way and that they would know him by name. He would ask for the latest news and get a list of test they had run but no answers.

There would be nothing new. He knew that. All the modern medicine and advanced tests couldn't figure out why his Dad wasn't improving. There were not answers to be found here. He know that.

He was tempted to ask Blair to investigate why but didn't want his Dad to know.

Blair was good. He know what to do to keep him healthy but his Dad? Could Dad have some of the same problems that he did with the modern drugs?

These were just more questions without answers.

More disappointments and more stress as he watched Dad slowly slip away.

He sat and visited and then he would reverse the walk down and out of the building. The Valet would get Sweetheart. He hated leaving he with them but it was his only option. Even the ten minute wait was better than the three dollar parking fees from the only open lot four block away.

Home...he know that he should do other things but he really did need to go home. His territory. He needed his guide. He didn't know what to do. He had only started talking to his dad a few years ago and now he could be dieing.

The end