Loud beeps and high-pitched whirring sounds filled the room all lights flashing red, as the trauma team, smooth, fast and precise, tubed, injected and compressed the broken chest of the tiny bloody heap lying on the gurney, as if moving to some unheard rhythm in a well-choreographed dance.
A faultless performance but no round of applause as minutes passed until finally, looking up at the exhausted faces of the emergency team around him, the surgeon, his hands outstretched as if in supplication, devastation evident in the quivering timbre of his voice, addressed them; "If you have any thoughts, please let me know" he said, "and right now would be good" he added before pausing for what seemed like forever and then turning to glance at the clock and announce time of death.
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This is posted as part of the daily 5 minute freewrite, details of which you can find here
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Image: Pixabay