Hospital Corridors
This hospital is nothing like the one I am used to back home, where the receptionist is more plastic than the purified water dispenser. Here there is no openness, no space, nothing shines or has the smell of disinfectant. Instead the way in is down a long hallway so narrow that if a wheelchair or trolley were to come to other way I'd have to dip into a side room to let it go by. The walls were once painted, I can tell that from the cream flakes that remain, though mostly they show the grey undercoat or perhaps the concrete beneath that. The floor is uneven from so much traffic with both feet and wheels and it's darker than a mausoleum. The air is stagnant like we just went into some pit. There are no hand sanitizers on the walls, how they prevent the spread of germs here I don't know, perhaps they don't. From ahead come muffled voices, some angry, some placating. I bite down on my lip, this isn't going to be fun.
