Mornings...I can't stand them. Let me clarify: I'm a morning person, but not when I have to come to work. Not only do I have to get up before my natural circadian rhythm wakes me up, but I also have to deal with people. I can't wait to get a work-from-home job that makes more money. The crazy thing is, I don't have to come here and be a telemetry tech. I am an LVN. However, because I want to keep my nursing license hush-hush so I can PRN elsewhere, I choose to stay here full-time.

What can I say, I need the extra flow.

With my coffee in hand, I trudge off the elevator and make my way to the front desk. I sigh heavily, giving everyone a tired hello as I walk past before disinfecting the front desk and coffee area. "Za-elle!" Fanna, one of the RNs on the floor, exclaims when she sees me. "Have you had your coffee yet?" she asked, smiling. Even though the entire front desk is dim, I still squint my eyes and give her a tired "no" before continuing what I was doing.

"Ok, I will come back when you have your coffee," she says, walking in the same direction as another nurse. I nod as our newest charge nurse calls everyone for the safety huddle. The unit has calmed down a bit. Our manager left for a month's vacation, and our NCC is taking a week off. So we party...though not really.

From my peripheral vision, I see Jon's messy curls. Today, he doesn't have a resident. Damn, just my luck. I settle into the desk and get everything pulled up and open on my computer. The phones are already ringing off the hook this morning when a random PCT comes and asks me for an expo marker. I searched the drawers until I found a blue one and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he says, pushing a blond lock from his face before walking off.

Who's that guy? I wonder.

My thoughts are interrupted as a loud, deep voice calls my name, making me nearly jump out of my chair.

"Zaelle!" Jon says with a smile. He reaches over the desk to grab the permanent marker from the small black desk organizer.

"Geez," I clench my invisible pearls from the too-early jump scare, "Jon, why do you have to be in all caps in the morning? Can you go lowercase; do you not have an inside voice?" I ask, my decaffeinated grouch, taking surface, as this lovely encounter is before coffee number one, so my patience is as thin as mint-flavored floss.

Jon was a five-foot-something Vietnamese guy. He was pretty handsome (though I would never tell him that), and he had enough facial piercings to make you want to write a typical bad boy fan-fic. The lightning bolt tattoo, which he got on a dare one day while hanging out with his friends from work, is his first and only tattoo that resides on his right upper arm. The cherry on top was his deep voice that could make you clutch your pearls and curl your toes the first time you heard it (until you realize just how out of pocket he could be). He was a bit of a spaz, but he was also an excellent worker. Once you get to know him, you find out that he's an adventurous hermit.

"Of course I do; I just like to mess with you," he says, returning the marker.

I give him a look that could crush ice, "You know you're really annoying. I had a great day when you weren't here yesterday, and now you're here fucking with me."

"I'm not fucking with you; I'm leaving," he said, gathering the clear and now numbered zip-lock bags and walking off.

He would be back later with his shenanigans; at least he has meds to pass now.

The morning passes; both cups of coffee and breakfast settle in my stomach. The one earphone I have in my ear (for sanity's sake), hidden behind long hair, plays my latest NSFW audiobook. It's a supernatural romance, but I really like this author's work.

"Zaelle." Ms. Thalia, the secretary, calls, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, Ms. T?" I turn to look at her.

"Here, take a look at this," she says, showing me the computer screen with a bunch of daily staffing sheets on it.

"What's wrong with it?" I ask, not understanding what she is trying to show me.

"Where is yesterday's sheet, huh?"

I sigh and push my chair back to my side of the desk; it's not that she really wanted to know; she knew the answer. She just wanted to complain.

Sometimes I wonder if I have, "This person wants to hear all your complaints. Tell me all your complaints." written across my forehead in Times New Roman.

"How would I know? I was off for two weeks."

"I know, but look," she says, pointing to the computer screen, "Why didn't she put it in the file? Zaelle, I need you to do something. Tell her to start putting in her sheets."

"No, how about you tell her. I'm not the manager here; you should take it up with her if it irritates you. The 'her' in question was the other secretary. Honestly, I think almost everything she does irritates Ms. Thalia. I believe Ms. Thalia still holds a grudge against the guy who was our NCC at the time. But since she can't directly take it out on him, she nitpicks at what the other secretary doesn't do.

"Zaelle!" A loud, deep voice from behind me makes me (yet again) almost jump out of my seat. I can't stand when he does that.

"Seriously, Jon—" I hiss, clutching the tattered leather on the armrest of my chair. "Use your inside voice. What do you need?" I ask, turning around in my chair.

"How's two on the monitor?" he asked, staring at the three telemetry screens. I turn my chair around and point my pencil eraser to the patient's rhythm, "Two, she's sinus at sixty-nine right now." I turned my head back around to look at him, just in case he wanted to ask about someone else. To my surprise, he was staring at his cell phone with a goofy grin.