Albert

　　Working in a hospital with recent stroke patients was an all-or-nothing proposition. They were usually go grateful to be alive or just wanted to die. A quick glance told all.

　　Albert taught me much about strokes.

　　One afternoon while making rounds I'd met him, curled in a fetal position. A pale, dried-up old man with a look of death, head half-buried under a blanket. He didn't budge when I introduced myself, and he said nothing when I referred to dinner "soon."

　　At the nurse's station, an attendant provided some history. He had no one. He'd lived too long. Wife of thirty years dead, five sons gone.

　　Well, maybe I could help. A chunky but pretty divorced nurse avoiding the male population outside of work, I could satisfy a need. I flirted.

　　The next day I wore a dress, not my usual nursing uniform but white. No lights on. Curtains drawn.