The cocking of the 9mm 1911 handgun is all that I remembered before the world trembled beneath my feet, it was unreal how an earthquake could hit Florida, where one hadn’t in thirty years. It felt as if I was in limbo, and the gods unable to decide whether he would be welcomed to heaven, or whether Satan would come for my tortured soul. I awoke with the smell of a sanitised institute and the beeping of a computer, put two and two together plus the person you work for, you situate yourself inside the Cleveland Clinic. Although this is the latest and greatest hospital in the vicinity it sure looked a lot like the worst wing of the hospital the drapes had yellowed from exposure to the sun, a tray of food that looked like it had been sitting there for two days and above all the pleasant view of a brick wall from his only window. Trying to adjust for a more comfortable position chest would hurt as if a man had recently shoved a pitch fork into his ribs, not only that whilst trying to move his hands, his right was cuffed to the bed side rail. An earthquake then this? This couldn’t be real? Shortly later an obese, middle aged, white nurse came in. With a disgruntled look and a voice of a chain smoker, without any ‘how …show more content…
Not an hour later was security called to kick me out. Out on the street with the same blood stained suit the only difference was the secret service insignia was torn out. Pulling out a Marlboro, I asked the next passer-by for a light, spit on my shoe was my response. Eyes pierced my soul, spit rained down and the constant berating language hit hard as I walked the streets of Florida. Not one white owned store served me, the usual response was the typical: brandish the Tampa bay ray’s baseball bat, and threaten me until I