She did not mind taking care of sick people; she loved taking care of people. It made her feel good about herself and filled her with purpose. But who would take care of her? She had her father, sure, but he would not be here forever. When he is gone, then what? She would spend the rest of her life miserable and alone, and her only companion would be the echoes of her cries reverberating through the walls of her big, empty house.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh morning air, and sighed noisily. "Another day," she thought wryly as she started towards the building, clinging tightly to the strap of her bag, which hung lazily from her shoulder.
