David CookFragments of the thought had been squirming around my head all day, but it took the smell of burning flesh for the words to finally fall into place.
I really don’t like hospitals.
On the operating table a few feet away was a leg — the entire rest of the body was covered in sanitized blue cloth — with a mouth-sized open wound just south of the patient’s shaved and sterilized knee.
The wound was being cauterized. Little tendrils of smoke unfurled in the operating room as the scent (not unlike a wood barbecue) ran up my nose.
Really don’t like hospitals.