[Let's just pretend this is all in French.]
I'm still not over what Mother and Father did. It's been four years but- still, I cannot stand this country, the people, or the language! I loathe this profession even more, I do not want to know how to stitched someone's cut open leg, or how to set a bone, or how a disease spreads throughout the body as it slowly takes over the healthy cells and cripples a person until they-
Oh God. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.
At least there are cute people working in my hospital, a few cute classmates too... though- Well I'm not sure. There's still someone waiting for me back in France but we pretty much agreed to go our own ways. Curse my romantic side.
For now, I'll just suffer through this until I open up my restaurant again. Maybe play a prank on that damned Kirkland. Stupid Englishman thought he could trick me.
There's a crude drawing of Arthur that he's scribbled out with a few messily scrawled words- only one that you could make out
'...cute...'
