"Well, I’m Hazel Lancaster, " she introduced herself. "And trust me you don’t want to know my story, its boring as all get out."
"Y—yeah, mine too." Arielle said and gave a sad smile. "B—but I’ll l—listen if u—you want."
"Oh, just thyroid cancer that moved to my lungs," she said as she played with her cannula. "What ‘bout you?"
"O—oh, I’m s—so sorry." She said and bit her lip. "O—oh, me? U—uh…. Just… T—this and t—that…"
"What exactly is this and that?" Hazel asked as she pulled her oxygen closer to her.
Arielle bit her lip and looked away. “N—n—nothing.”
She thought for a second. “Well, everyone has a story,” she said quietly.
"Y—yeah. I k—know. I—I’m just t—the one w—who has one t—that no o—one wants t—to hear.."
"I would love to listen to your story," she told her .
"I—it’s not a—a pretty o—one…"
"Not all stories are fairytales," she said, smiling politely.
