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this one was also written on v day. and i like this one a little more. there's actually more to the story... i just haven't finished it. this is the first part. i will eventually (hopefully) write the rest of it. yeah.

I don't know how to do this. I feel lost and scared, all jumbled inside. This mass of confused feelings makes me doubt my ability to do this, to become what I will become in a few hours.

            As I pace in the disinfectant-scented waiting room, I can't help but let my imagination run wild within me. What if she's in pain? What if she dies on the table? Every new hideous idea brings a greater acceleration to my pacing. (I think I'm upsetting the others who are waiting patiently)

            The hour is in the transition stage between late and early when the white coat comes out. Her clear eyes and sure step indicate shes done this a thousand times before. My case isn't special, everything's fine; I almost audibly sigh my relief.

            "Mr. Lamontange?" Her warbled, pebbly voice hits my arctic senses and I shiver from the shock. I can hear my voice reply in the affirmative. "I'm sorry, sir. But there have been some minor complications. She's going to have to have an emergency cesarean section. She suggested that you not come in because of your aversion to blood." It was as if I had suddenly gone deaf. In fact, all my senses seemed to disappear. I began to float in the blackness of my mind, lost in the new experience of trying to breathe.

            "Mr. Lamontange? Hello?? Mr. Lamontange? Are you listening to me?" Suddenly, the bright fluorescent lights flood my eyeballs and I have to blink back my security tears. I begin to nod maniacally and the white coat pats me on the back.

            "It's alright, Mr. Lamontange. This happens quite often. I know you wanted to be there, but it's better this way. Why don't you go home and sleep a little? We'll call you if anything happens." I nod dumbly and step into the elevator. The descending of the machine makes me queasy and when it stops on the ground floor, I debate with myself about heading to the bathrooms before my stomach decides to mellow out.

            I stumble through the already closing elevator doors and out into the parking lot. I can see the sun is making its way about the pine trees. For a moment, I hesitate beside my car door, trying to decide what to do with my life. I climb into my car and turn the ignition, knowing somehow that I will end up at Waffle House.