Jesus Loves Me

Looking back now it seems irresponsible to me that my mother and grandfather slid out of the car and locking the doors instructed me not to unlock them for any reason. I watched them disappear into the double doors of the enormous brick building that was the main entrance to the hospital. I knew to protest would be futile, so I sank down into the back seat and looked around me. The grounds were nice enough and even had fountains that I remembered from our previous visits in the summer. The fountains were now cold and dry emptied of the sparkling water they once held.
Feeling a tiny bit of fear trying to creep up my spine I looked around the automobile for something to occupy my thoughts. Upon seeing the radio with its big shiny buttons poking out to me I pulled myself over the front seat and sat in my best typist position. I became the efficient secretary I had seen on some television show. I began punching the buttons enjoying the click as I imagined myself as the front line of defense between my boss and his deadline. Quite enjoying the fantasy, I pretended to answer phones and take shorthand intermittently returning to the pressing letter before me. I reached for the pretend phone on my left and insisted to the caller that my boss could not possibly speak with him and he would need to call back later, as I turned to answer the annoying phone on my right I looked square into the eyes of a seriously deranged patient whose face was pressed against the window and his fingers were clawing the door handle attempting in vain to pull open the locked door. I plastered my small body against the opposite door screaming hysterically as the pitiful soul became more frantic in his efforts to reach me. Looking full into his face now I his saw wild blue eyes that seemed to be searching inside of himself. Even though he was looking directly at me, he was seeing beyond me to some tortured place inside his own mind. I stopped screaming and took in the sum of his face, the slack in