Just trying to write a little on the side to see if anything can come of it.
He walked into the clinic for his volunteer shift. He was the jack of all trades when he did the volunteer work for the clinic. It seemed like they never had enough hands to go around. He’d empty the trash, restock supplies for the nurses, and occasionally do his favorite part of the gig and that was talking up the patients. He also got to learn how to heal. Granted he didn’t have the medical training so he could volunteer to treat patients, but he could volunteer and learn all he could from the doctors and the nurses. He relished the opportunity. He never knew when he decided that he wanted to help people through medicine, but just always knew that is what he was supposed to do.
It was cold. Not the nice morning crisp cold that wakes you up on a brisk morning while camping, which is gracefully soothed with a morning fire. It was that bone-chilling cold. The kind of cold that you feel in the depths of your soul. The wind was flashing through the air and the rain was steadily pounding on the trail. A wiser man might have turned around and admitted defeat, but he had never been accused of being wise. He had finished weeks of working somewhere. Where had he been?
It was ghostly quiet as he walked down the sidewalk. He saw the streetlight just slightly shimmer off an object that was slightly covered by the green shrubs on the side of the concrete edge of the Johnson’s Bank. He bent down, slowly, and only then was the deathly silence broken by his gasp. Holding his right side, where the bullet had pierced through him early, he slowly picked up the pristine black notebook. He stood there panting. The world wasn’t growing dark yet, but he sure thought it lost its shine. Pain does that, at least to him, distracts him. He looked down at the black notebook he picked up and strongly considered throwing into the water on the other side of the street. Surely this bound paper couldn’t be worth the pain he just experienced. Picking it up was clearly a mistake, although this made him consider the mistake he made earlier, in getting punched with a bullet in the first place.