Cash burst through the door dramatically, tears formed in the corners of his sockets. The hospital was silent, mostly, the hum of the air conditioning the only real sound. He took in a shaky break, steadying himself, before he walked to the counter at the ER station, clearing his throat to grab the worker’s attention.
“I’m looking for, uh, Slim? Slim Serif?”
They gave him a look of pity before pointing off to the side. “Down the hall. A doctor is there for you.”
He hurried, hands shoved deep in his pockets, resisting the urge to throw back a glare as he felt their eyes stick on his back. As they had said, there was a doctor there, flipping through papers on a clipboard. He looked up as Cash approached. For a moment, he wondered how often the doctor had to deliver news like this, seeing the unspoken question in his sockets.
“We did everything that we could.” The unspoken was much louder than anything else could have been.
Cash took in a slow breath, pushing aside the curtain and stepping into the small area, gaze immediately finding Slim, curled in around his stomach, eyes shut tight.
“Slim?”
He saw the other start in the bed, slightly, looking over his shoulder. His eyelights were foggy. “H-hey Cash.”
He stepped closer, looking down at his stomach. “Did… Please tell me it isn’t true.”
It was quiet. He swore softly, hands coming down on the bed to fist in the sheets. “You… you really ate all my fucking weed?”
Slim nodded. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why the hell would you do something like that?”
“Because.” Slim turned, looking at him over his shoulder once more. “I’m on a seaweed diet. I see weed.
“I eat it.”
THE END!
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