starter for: @jacobhartlandā
Ā Ā Ā the difficulties of being officially unofficial. silas couldnāt blame anyone, really-- it wouldnāt have been too surprising if each person who knew his name thought his job was different from the next individual. i thought you went to school for psychology. didnāt you study engineering?Ā yes, he did, and to be fair no one had been wrong, yet. still, the misconception often had the detriment of not being called for what he was available or had signed up for. so here he was, standing once again in parton general with a soft smile and a reminder on his lips he was available as a volunteer nurse, license still up-to-date, and eager to help as his mother did so long ago. perhaps the small town bent the rules to their own script, but most hospitals required at least seventy hours a year to be considered actively practicing in their system, and silas wanted to simply remind the facility,Ā ā hey, iām available. use the resources available to you. ā
Ā Ā Ā the walls that surrounded him were too familiar, well remembered for when he wasnāt supposed to interrupt his mother's work but then surprised her with a visit, for every concussion after a heavy football practice, for memories best kept in golden linings and barely touched lest they be tainted with present knowledge. as for familiar faces, he welcomed those, too, breaking away from his wait at the desk for a parton-renowned doctor hartland gracing his presence to the public, or at least passing through his busy work day.Ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā ā look at him: conniving, planning murder disguised in a white coat and latex gloves. little does anyone know the man with a syringe meant to heal is scheming their demise behind their backs. how is it that you keep this job? ā













