Unreal City, City of Dreams

I miss fat dumb Fort Wayne. A hospital at 2 am is a desolate place. I wake up and walk through the halls, occasionally passing a night shift nurse, ignoring me, she hunches over a computer screen. My father drifts in and out of consciousness. He was supposed to move from the cancer center to hospice today, but a window cracked and shattered in the room he was slated to go in. He wakes up and asks for orange juice. I have an orange in my purse, so I peel it and crush the segments between my fingers. The juice collects in a styrofoam cup.

Death stands over my father, running its hands over him while it looks me in the eyes.