? I didn’t see Paula when I left, six fresh stitches neatly sewn into my bandaged hand. I sent a message from my Blackberry to my assistant, Mark, to find out what he could about a young girl named Paula who worked evenings in housekeeping at St. Luke’s Hospital. The following afternoon, Mark sent me an email telling me that there was one girl who fit the description I had sent him. Her name was Paula Timms, she was nineteen, and she had just been fired from the hospital. I emailed him right away and told him to get an address for her. (Over the years I have donated generously to St. Luke’s, and a little thing like an ex-employee’s address shouldn’t prove too difficult to obtain). Within a few hours I had her address. It was an old motel on the outskirts of town. Twelve small units desperately in need of modernizing. The kind that was once a staple of Americana, until the Interstates and large chain motels passed them by, rendering them obsolete. Like many of its kind, it. She smiled warmly and he returned it with the same heat. Oh yes. This was turning out to be a very very good day. [BREAK] The nurse looked puzzled down at the patient. He was smiling like he had no worries in life. The nurse found this a little strange, considering his condition. Normally patients with his decease always had a troubled sleep pattern. But this guy smiled and was completely calm. Well maybe it was the drugs that finally worked on him. The nurse just sighed and finished her check. Maybe he has found some kind of peace. Her house was completely empty. But had anyone been there, they would have seen the happiness spreading over her sleeping face. Maybe even found it strange. She was sleeping sitting straight up in her wheelchair, like she had done so many times before. But this time she was sleeping deeply and not weakly. Yes, other people might have found it strange. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was, on this perfect day, talking with this perfect girl. Her name.
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