Radiator

I couldn’t peel myself from the radiator this morning. It’s bitterly cold.

And I thought of Mr T, a homeless regular in our emergency department.

His story never changes: shop lift vodka, drink at bus stop until he collapses, brought in by a stranger’s call.

For him, the only glimmer of warmth is the few hours he spends in our emergency department before he’s discharged again.

And as my hands pressed against the warm radiator, I prayed Mr T found his next moment of warmth.