He had been here many times before, and every time, this place evoked nothing but an unpleasant feeling of irritation and exhaustion.
He always preferred taking the stairs instead of the elevator. The elevator was often crowded with others, and he had no desire to cross paths with patients or doctors. He liked climbing the stairs so that no one would look at his face or ask him questions—not even polite ones. This time, he held a bouquet of flowers, hastily purchased on the way. Small white roses, as pale as the hospital walls.
