He gouged the sides of his knees with his fingernails, indenting his flesh and initiating slight tears in his soft skin. He immediately relaxed his hands, his mind scrolling though the consequences of broken flesh beneath his pale blue scrubs. Although blood wasn’t a surprising accessory for medical staff to don, blotches on his knees might draw some attention. And attention was what he didn’t want. He never wanted it, never at any point, anywhere, at any time. He dropped his eyes, searching the starched fabric for signs of unwanted plasma, then dug his nails into the steering wheel instead, resuming the pressure that stilled his mind.
People moved around him, back and forth to their vehicles, keys and coffees in hand, wearing exhaustion and apathy o...
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