Sometimes

It was the old hospitals, in her experience, that had them.  Sure, the newer ones had them too, they had to have some way to move the things people weren’t supposed to see, but they crackled with life and death, current moving along a conduit.  The old ones held nothing, spoke of nothing, and were just empty expanses of their experiences.  The hospitals built upon them, brought down, resurrected and expanded, left them forgotten.  Each and every one, different- faded paint, missing tiles, cracked concrete- and all very much the same.  She finally slowed, selecting a spot and sinking to the floor, solid wall against her back.  The cold seeped into her, making her shiver, but she didn’t care.  She’d come here to think, and alternately not think, and she’d learned long ago that these forgotten subterranean tunnels were the most conducive to that.  Her pager was upstairs in her office and cell phones didn’t work down here.  So she sat, arms wrapped around knees drawn up to her chest, head bowed eyes open.