Micah sat against the stiff hospital pillows, his back half arched like he couldn't decide whether lying down or sitting up was more comfortable. His phone was plugged into the wall via the hospital cable, the bright screen lighting up his face every few seconds as he flicked it awake, stared at Clyde's name, and then clicked it off again.
Call… or don't call?
He chewed on his bottom lip, restless.
The man was late. And Micah was beginning to get anxious.
He shifted on the bed, glancing at the IV needle taped to the back of his hand in dismay. This stupid body had failed him more than once. It was getting on his nerves more than he wanted to admit.
His legs shifted under the blanket for the tenth time. He crossed them then uncrossed them, sighing in exasperation.
The absence of the man tested his patience. Maybe something happened? Maybe Clyde didn't hear his voice?
