Al Dentes

A thousand and five thoughts were whirring through his head, among the most logical, number seventy seven was a wondering about only having felt his heart beat three times in the twenty seconds previous. Number fourteen was less rational considering the cirumstances, ‘pepperoni or capricciosa?’

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Heeding the call

The familiarity of what was going on, coming to with a mask over his face and someone beating him on the chest, scared the hell out of him, but not enough to prevent him from bolting from the stationary ambulance where he had just been placed.
He knew the routine after all because he was a paramedic himself, but also a drug addict who needed to get back to his true love – heroin.

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