Writer's Wednesday 29: Unmentioned Tragedy

On my blog, I do an 'event' called Writer Wednesdays. I post a prompt and others(including me) write something based on that prompt.

     Jeff sat in the hospital waiting room, his hair disheveled, his eyes sunken and ringed with dark purple bags.  He looked as if he might drop from exhaustion at any moment, the pits of his eggshell shirt dark with sweat, the front of the shirt crimson with a large dry splatter of blood.  He stared straight ahead of himself at a spot on the floor, although his eyes were vacant, as if he were not really seeing anything.

     The sounds of the hospital all seemed muffled to him - the rolling of carts, the scuffle of shoes, the beep beep beep of equipment, the phones ringing and respective receptionists answering them.

     His hands rested on his knees, soaking his jeans with the sweat from his palms.  Someone walked into the waiting room and Jeff did not so much as stir.  The person approached him, their footsteps becoming decreasingly muffled until the person stood right beside his chair.

     “Jeff,” the voice sounded like it was underwater and it took a great effort for Jeff to crane his neck and look up at the man standing by him, all dressed in white with a stethoscope draped over his neck and a nametag that read ‘Dr. M. Stetson.’  “Jeff,” his voice was clearer - more real - this time.

     “Yes?”  Jeff’s voice was scratchy and thick, and he suddenly couldn’t remember when he had last had a drink of water… or something to eat.

     Dr. M. Stetson sighed, looking at the floor, then back at Jeff.  “She, uh… Miriam didn’t make it.”

     Jeff continued to stare at him, a ringing starting in his ears and then growing louder, causing him to feel like his brain was rattling around inside his skull.  Dead?  Dead!?