Hair

June 11th

Diagnosed (as of today): 141

Deaths (as of today): 73

Total diagnosed: 1,358

Total deaths: 593

Asher's return at the hospital had created a commotion amongst many patients and doctors. It was almost as if he were a celebrity who finally made his appearance after mysteriously disappearing for years. A mini group of journalists were even waiting at the hospital entrance during the early hours of the morning when his shift started.

"Mr Smith, how did you manage to cure yourself of this disease?"

"Well-" he had started.

"You're the very first person in history to have overcome this life-shortening disease."

"Yes, I'm aware of that… "

"Is there a vaccine now? Will it ever be released in the near future?"

"We're still working on finding one. As of now, the best thing to do is to wait for further instructions."

He felt almost guilty for drawing so much attention to himself whilst countless lives were continuing to end one by one inside the building he was about to enter.

June 12th

Diagnosed (as of today): 158

Deaths (as of today): 69

Total diagnosed: 1,561

Total deaths: 662

After an intense day at work, it was refreshing to know that his next shift only started tomorrow. That left his whole Tuesday free of plans.

But it was that morning in the shower, when he saw it. His nose.

It had hardened into a faint layer of black. And when he stared at it closer in the mirror, a billion little hexagonal shapes had taken form on the surface of his new nose.

"I don't think it was there last night, honey." Constance raised an eyebrow to examine his face. "It's probably just a bruise."

"It makes me kinda nervous when you're so close though," Asher joked.

"Well, it's just been over two years since we married, and I think you should get used to it." She cheekily smiled, then pecked him lightly on the lips. He flinched abruptly, as Constance patted his nose.

"You know what you should do though?" She paused before leaving the bathroom. "Give yourself a nice good shave. It's not comfortable for the both of us when your facial hair gets in the way."

He laughed lightly. Asher leaned in the mirror and realised that his wife was not telling a lie. His hair was dripping wet, and so was the little beard that had clumped up at the bottom of his jawline. A part of him wanted to burst out laughing at this peculiar sight of a grown man.

But his laughter died as he spent the next few hours struggling to rid himself of his excess facial hair. It had never been this difficult to graze off the stubbled bits of hair poking out of the bottom half of his face.

Whenever he'd shave off a layer of hair and put his razor away, he'd look into the mirror and see newly grown hair poking out of his just cleanly shaven face. The more he shaved, the more it grew. He pictured himself with a mountain of hair poking out of his chin, and panicked.

They went to the barber's that day to get it cleanly shaved.

"Looks like a weird case of rapid hair growth." The barber had said. "And if you don't mind me asking, Mr Smith, what happened to your nose?"

"Ah. It's … just a bruise," Asher mumbled.

And off they went with the shaving. The sun rose and set as they shaved and shaved away at his excessive facial hair. After having no luck at all, the barber switched from shaving to applying facial waxes. They ended up having to remove his hair directly from his follicles, which ended up in painful terms.

After paying the bill and going through a slightly unfriendly conversation with the barber, Asher and Constance got up to leave. Picking up a few shaved off bits of hair from the floor, he came to a sudden realisation. It was not hair, but fur on the ground.

Fur.

・・・

He had a dream that night. Someone was calling his name.

"I think it's time you wake up."

・・・

He woke up sweating, almost as if he'd just ran a mile. Tilting his head a fraction, he looked at the unconscious figure laying beside him. Constance's face was ever so peaceful--it couldn't have been her.

June 13th

Diagnosed (as of today): 182

Deaths (as of today): 83

Total diagnosed: 1,673

Total deaths: 740

Asher woke up in the morning only to find that his beard had grown back again. The "bruise" on his nose hadn't faded away, but he didn't give much thought about it. He felt mentally drained after injecting his medication, kissing Constance goodbye and heading off to work. Thank goodness it was a requirement for doctors to wear masks, he thought to himself.

His lunch meals were quiet; he ate alone outdoors in a small alleyway to avoid any possible awkward questions regarding his physical appearance from strangers or his colleagues. It was always uncomfortable to sit on the concrete floor as he listened to lifeless machines hum monotonously away, but he preferred it over talking to those journalists gathered at the main entrance of the hospital.

Once he was "caught" going outdoors by Jamie. "Hey Ash, come eat lunch with us in the office. Where've you been for the past few breaks anyways?"

"Ah. I've been kinda busy, with recording the data of the new cases and everything," he had said quickly. "Can't go at the moment."

"Ash being too busy with his fans," Jamie joked bitterly, then walked briskly to the hospital balcony, cigarette box in one hand. "Whatever."