Worried

It was her. There could be no mistake. I would recognize that nose, those ears, that figure anywhere. No matter what kinds of emotions she wore or what kind of new outfit she wore, I would always know what I had to call out.

“I — I’m sorry, Gale, but I think you have the wrong —”   

“Dawn!” I ripped off the contraption on my face, threw off the sheets, and scrambled to my feet. “Dawn. Oh, Dawn.”

“Sir!” Dr. Gagnon and the nurse said simultaneously. They moved in front of me, cutting off my path. But there was no need to restrain me; I froze at the sight of Dawn flinching and shying away. As I hesitated, she retreated and hid behind the middle-aged man who had followed her in. Recognizing him as well, I exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and indignation:

“Alain Tremblay! What is the meaning of this?”