“Cheers.” Greg’s smile falls away as the nurse leaves the consulting room. He takes a breath, and tests the rapidly-swelling lump on the side of his head. A sharp half-gasp as he touches a place, through the gauze, that hurts more than he’d expected.
He sighs and stands up, slowly pulling on his coat. His arms, shoulders and back ache. His legs are tired from running.
Bed. God. Home, bed, tomorrow – well. Tomorrow, paperwork. His head aches at the thought.
Slowly, he makes his way towards the exit, raising a hand and summoning a cheery grin on the way for the nurse who’d patched him up. His head really is throbbing, now. God knows when he last ate, but he’d had a cup of tea a few hours ago – right? And then it all kicked off – and since then, he’s not had a minute to himself.
It’s alright. Plenty of time to himself when he gets home.
Sometimes, the silence of his small flat is perfect, after a long day at work. Tonight, though – there won’t be anyone there. There to look after him, to be concerned about his injury, to make him a cup of tea and some dinner.
Concussion
Published
Mystrade-Lecroft 