Matti Lake

Black Book Protocol

Only an hour has passed since my night shift ended. My mind keeps wandering back to the hospital. A distinct redolent of sanitizer lingers, despite the diner’s obtuse aroma of grease and coffee. As sleep deprivation creeps in, all I can think about is how much death and trauma this terrible pandemic is causing. What seems like seconds ago, I was scrambling to save another elderly patient from the virus. The look on her face still fresh, tears of fear pooling as I watched the life fade from her eyes. Masked strangers, a cacophony of panicked alarms and the rhythmic mechanical hissing of the ventilator were the last things she experienced. As I escape the memory and slip back to the present, I find myself staring down at a cold plate of runny eggs and damp toast.