Virus

Virus

Donald R. Fletcher, author

“Jeanine...do I have that right?”

“Yes, Mr. Palmer, what can I do for you?”

“Just tell me again. Where am I, and what am I doing here?”

“You’re in Safe Harbor, in our Skilled Nursing division.”

“Safe Harbor. I thought I moved in two months ago—well, my kids moved me in. It was their idea—but not here. I had a nice two-room apartment in the B building.”

“Yes, Mr. Palmer; but then you got the virus.”

“Oh, the virus. Is that why I’ve been remembering and re-living all this stuff?”

“I don’t know what stuff, Mr. Palmer, and it doesn’t matter. You’ve been very sick—high fever, probably delirious. You’d better rest now.”

“Tell me, Jeanine, did anyone come to see me?”

“Yes. Your wife, of course.”

“I don’t have a wife—not anymore.”

“Well, this person said she is your wife—lovely person, very pleasant, beautiful red hair. Jessica. She said to tell you, when you woke up, that she’d been here.”

“Okay, Jessica, I thought that you had come—thought it was a dream, though—it’s been so long. And what’s about the red hair? You were a streaky blonde…Plainly, you’ve got a new life now. I wish I did…or that we could have it together…but I’m so tired…so tired…”

Author Notes: At age 101, after publishing nine books, Don Fletcher is writing flash fiction and short prose pieces. Search by author name for his other stories.

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