Lottie always smiled like she was truly happy to see you and would call you ‘gorgeous,’ like you were the first person she had ever said that to. The one time she said it to me, made me blush from the inside out and I believed it for a moment.
Lottie seemed quite bouncy on first inspection but when she didn’t think anyone was looking she would be quiet and still, lost in some distant, sad thought. Her hair was usually twisted into a careless, dark, glossy topknot, her Victorian-pale face edged exquisitely by errant tendrils.
It must surely be the law for the children’s ward nurses to be beautiful. It certainly wasn’t the case on the Elderly Mentally Infirm Unit. Perhaps it was like dog owners, the longer you stayed in the company of individuals, the more you started to resemble them.
Lottie’s eyes were huge like a Disney princess and the same shade as her hair so there was the illusion that you were looking through her eyes and straight into her hair. It was disconcerting because whilst my eyes were defocussed at this illusion, it turned out Lottie was waiting for my answer.