"Then Miguel handed me my suture kit and I
began readying myself as he rolled the trolley away through the door out of the
exhibition space. I was good to go when I felt his hand on my shoulder and I
heard him whisper, ‘Ssshh!’
I slowly craned my head upwards. There,
above us, suspended in space, was the security guard on his nightly rounds. He
paused on the plexiglass floor and sent his flashlight beam into the
surrounding shadows of the foyer. I could see past his trouser cuffs to the
mis-matched, non-regulation socks he was wearing..."
No comments:
Post a Comment