Paul Sharpe

Flat-Lined

It was early morning when I was abruptly awoken by my dad who pulled me to the car. The rain fell on my face and I was cold to the bone, a feeling which I will never forget. Half-awake, I was buckled in my seat as we drove down route 70. The headlights from the passing cars streamed by going the opposite direction. I was oblivious to what was happening and wasn’t sure if I should even ask where we were going. The expression on my Dad’s face left me silent the whole ride there. We arrived at St. John’s Hospital, a place where my Grandma was kept for observation due to recent heart failure. I would visit her every day but this day felt different. We rushed through the building’s entrance at an urgent pace. I thought to myself that something must have happened. We were directed to the room where my Grandma was kept. I expected to see her perfect smile but all I could hear was the long eerie beep of a flat-lined patient.