Three Minute Fiction: Great Homework!

As previously mentioned, I really enjoy the prompts issued by those behind Three Minute Fiction at NPR.  I've never submitted anything, but I found it was really easy to get 'back into writing' when I had such limitations on super-short, and specific words, lines, etc.

I've only typed up two so far, I'm going to share one now, and one another day.  The prompt is quoted up top and then there's my piece.  They just wrapped up round 7 after much demand from their fans, but who knows when the next round will be.  I hope I manage to come up with something and maybe submit!

(All Criticism Greatly Appreciated, dears.)

"We asked you to send us original works of fiction that begin with this sentence:

'The nurse left work at five o'clock.'"

Vigil

The nurse left work at five o’clock.  I was still parked in the Hardee’s lot next-door, sandwich wrapper crumpled and greasy on the passenger side floorboard.  The cardboard cup full of mostly melted ice-water, mixing with the last swallow of soda, nullifying its syrupy flavor.

She was texting, arms encumbered with a purse, lunch box, duffle bag; head cocked to the side as she came to stop next to a cheap, old car.  She tapped away on the phone, I couldn’t make out the look on her face, could have been biting her lip.

It was almost five-after before the nurse remembered that she was being weighed down by her stuff and that she should be leaving.  She held her phone in one hand and began to dive head-first into each of her bags before nudging in her coat-pocket and finding the keys to the cheap car.  The back door unlocked and popped open loudly, she tossed everything in the seat before resuming her text.

Then it happened.  She looked down at the phone, as her hand rested on the door and suddenly, though it was hard to decipher before, her state was now clear.  She grew inches taller as her back went rigid; the door was shocked from her hand and slammed shut in reaction to her jerk.  It was as though the shock or pain was jolted from her phone, through her body, straight to the door – registering only briefly inside of her.

The phone was pocketed, front door unlocked, and then she disappeared inside, save for the pile of hair bobbing above the head-rest.  It moved down for a minute, and then up – to the side – I supposed she was looking out the windows.  Finally, the parking lights snapped on and changed to white as she started up the vehicle, and shifted immediately to pull-out.  I followed her as she came closer to my field of view before passing by, and still could not tell what she really looked like, how she really felt.

I repositioned my legs, folding them beneath me and focused on the medical building again.  The nurse left at five, the janitors smoked at 3:15 – laughing loudly, ribbing each other.  The receptionist left at two, only to return – with a young boy forty minutes later.  I stopped counting patients or bill-payers around eleven, because they aren’t who I’m looking for.

It’s half-past now, so I’m pretty sure I’ve narrowed it down, who it is that’s been keeping you late.