Quality of Life

As soon as Sam found the letter, he practically ran to Isla's clinic. His eyes had hardly finished looking at the last paragraph before it was bunched up in his fist while he ran. He didn't care to learn about the risks. What could be worse than having to live the rest of his (potentially very long) life like he was? From the way it had been written, mentioning his tea and being written with his full name...well, there were only so many people it could have come from. He was sure Remi wouldn't do it (it felt uncharacteristic. He felt if Remi had made such a thing he would have told Sam about it; that would be the right thing to do). It had to be Isla or Jigano, and Jigano seemed more keen on him accepting himself for himself. (fuck that) The fact that the letter may have been for the Voice did not occur to him. He would have to 'visit' eventually to refuel, but he tried to avoid her as much as he could. She was too much a reminder of what he was. As soon as he reached the door to the clinic, Sam knocked loudly on the door then rushed in. He came to a skidding stop a few steps in, looking around desperately for Isla. "I got--I got your letter! Isla! He yelled out into the room, looking for her. "Yes! Y-yes!" SAMUEL How could a night so frozen Be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild Be so raw?