1952

Man, can't remember how I fuk'd up that landing.

All I remember was waking up in a drug-induced stupor, and stiff as a statue.

I had broken a lotta sh*t, and burned meself a bit (understatment of the year).

Four freakin' months laying in a plaster case, barely able to communicate through a wired jaw, taking food through a straw, waiting for the gaddamn tray >.<, and not being able to even turn my head much.

Buds from my Test Flight unit came and joked around, even if it did hurt to laugh, and that one time one of those S.O.B.'s thought patting me on the sholder would be casual... Surprised I ever went back to work there ^^

But, staring out the window, I realized that I was alone. My parents were so far away (because of the classified materials of my work, they couldn't be informed unless I had life threatening injuries. Mine were all survivable/recoverable, there were just a lot of them ^^), and I had absolutely no one else that I could confide in.

... I started yearning for the company of that medic from the War, the genet...

Oh well... at least I got time to relax, even if it felt like the nurse wanted to have me bronzed!

Hey! You'd be frustrated too if your ass itched THAT much ^^