She punched my arm when I tried to help her to the bathroom as the charcoal gray clouds slid overhead. I drove to the hospital when the rain slanted sideways with the wind. "Will you sit with room 12 again?" she said. “Yes, she's fine as long as you don't let her bite you.” Television makes her more agitated. The storm looked tornado-like, but it came and went within the hour. I parked behind the ER. Monet sent me a text that she had an extra ticket to the concert at Deer Valley tonight. She and Aria would save me a spot and provide the picnic. After the last vitals were done, I knotted and looped restraints from the back of bed frame to crazy girl's wrists before the new tech came in to take the night shift. Kristen Chenoweth’s song Popular played. As I listened closely to Bring Him Home, I remembered watching Les Mis play in a London theater so many years ago. So close I could almost feel her tremble with stage fright, something I knew all too well.
