The man that walks the halls carries not a flashlight to oversee bad children sneaking out of bed for a late night snack, but gauze and tape for a little girl lost and alone with no other choice.
His job is to bandage the self inflected wounds from piercing glares taken the wrong way to the stabbing words muttered under old women’s breath.
This man has been here many years walking to and fro, to and from, from here to there, there and back again, just hoping just one day that latex free tape he keeps like a gun in a holster, so quick to draw will not be needed. For just one night.
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