hands.

[docwithablog]

His nervous system takes a while to grow accustomed to the air strikes that befall them without any predictability or pattern. During a particularly bad hit, everybody seeks shelter in the hospital’s basement, doing cholera shots for two and a half hours straight. Trying not to let his hands jerk every time a new missile launches, lands, John still manages to puncture more than one vein at the wrong angle, making a little boy or girl cry out. He apologises in makeshift Arabic, one of the few words he’s learned at this point, and repeats the motion, keeping steady, steady.