Little bit of timed flash fiction, to practice narrative writing, also as I’ve hit a wall with poetry. Possibly a sensitive topic for some, but I was just in one of those moods.
There are three men in the room. Two are in a professional debate about saving a man’s life, whilst the third is fumbling around with medical equipment. He drops a container which spills a selection of steel instruments, and a few other odds and ends that always seem to be in abundance in hospitals. Masks, surgical wool, two bottles of hand sanitiser – but not the kind you get at the pharmacist. Hospital personnel get a special kind to kill off that last 0.01%.
The third man is bent over the sterilised debris trying to make it all fit back into the container. There is a designated compartment for everything, but he just can’t work out which…
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