Hands of Blue

He had her cornered now, his stance wide to stop her escaping and his arms outreached. The uniform he wore made him stand out against the rest of the sterile environment, compared to the slightly drab robe the young girl was wearing.

She backed herself into the corner, shaking her head rapidly. “Hands of blue!” She sobbed, her blonde hair sticking to her tear streaked face. “Hands of blue!” Came the repeat.

He was baffled. “I don’t have hands of blue, see? They’re just white gloves.” Crouching down a little, he reached out towards her. “We need to get you treated and out of here, to someone who can find out who your family is.”

Jerking her hand away from him, the little girl just repeated her mantra over and over. He’d not heard her say anything else.

“You could hurt yourself if you don’t calm down.” He chided, doing little to stop her histrionics.

A boy in the nearby bed chimed in with a suggestion, “Perhaps you need blue gloves?”

“What does glove colour have to-” The nurse paused. His white gloves weren’t technically white, more of a very pale cream made of latex. There were blue gloves in the hospital wards. Nitrile gloves.

Peeling the gloves off, he put them in one of the nearby bins. He was quick to scrub his hands, making sure she wouldn’t run off anywhere before putting the non-latex gloves on. “There, see?” He said, crouching down again as he flexed his fingers. “Hands of blue.”

Just like that, she took his hand in hers with a big smile on her face. Carefully leading her down the ward he tried not to glance out of the window, the smoke plume from the stricken space cruiser still visible in the distance.


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