Chapter 1 Look who is talking
Joseph Xander had once believed the world was waiting for him. Three years ago, he had left university with his degree in hand and the confidence of a man certain that hospitals would compete for his signature. Instead, the world had simply moved on without him.
Now he drifted through his days like smoke-late mornings, sluggish afternoons, and long nights in the company of his friends Bruce and Terry at the bar down the road. The nurses at St. Luke's Hospital had stopped bothering to scold him when he arrived late for his volunteer shifts. They still called him "Doctor" with polite smiles, but Joseph felt the word echoing hollow in his chest.
He laughed often in public, glass in hand, but when the night ended and the bar emptied, he returned to his small room alone, where the shadows stretched long and the ceiling above seemed to whisper of wasted years. He told himself he didn't care. He told himself life was easier this way.
---
The alarm buzzed somewhere under the mess of clothes on the floor, but Joseph didn't move at first. He stared at the cracked ceiling of his house, where stains traced patterns like faded memories. Sunlight leaked through the curtains he hadn't bothered to draw the night before, touching books, unwashed cups, discarded newspapers, and an overturned shoe.
Joseph groaned, rolling out of bed and massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Three years, Joseph," he muttered. "Three years since graduation. Still no job, still no wife, still begging money like a child. Maybe life is just a practical joke."
He shuffled to the small table where his phone blinked with a new message. It was from his sister.
Morning Joe. I've sent you some money for rent. Please find a side job-you're old enough to stop asking me for money. Don't make this a habit.
Joseph stared at the words, his jaw tightening.
"Side job? What side job? Maybe I should become a comedian," he muttered bitterly, tossing the phone onto the couch. "The joke is already my life."
---
He dragged himself toward his wardrobe, staring at the jumble of clothes thrown inside. After a few moments of rummaging, he grabbed a wrinkled white shirt and his volunteer coat. Pulling them on, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
"Not bad for someone about to save lives... or at least attempt to," he muttered, adjusting the collar that refused to stay flat. He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed, finally slipping on a pair of shoes that didn't quite match. "Ah, perfection. Well... tolerable," he said to the empty room.
Backpack slung over his shoulder, Joseph headed out, muttering complaints about the sun being too bright and the streets too crowded. "Why is it always so early in the morning?" he grumbled as he walked to the hospital.
---
At St. Luke's Hospital, the corridors buzzed with the usual morning chaos-nurses calling out patient names, the hiss of IV drips, the low murmur of staff in hurried discussion. Joseph moved slower than the rest, his white coat creased, but today he managed to assist in a minor operation. His hands were steady, his expression calm-no one could deny he was skilled. If only skill were enough.
Afterwards, he found Bruce at the cafeteria. Bruce's uniform was crisp, his ID card swinging around his neck-a constant reminder that he was employed, unlike Joseph. The aroma of coffee filled the small space, mixing with the faint smell of antiseptic that clung to Joseph's coat.
"Rough night?" Bruce asked, sipping his coffee.
Joseph smirked, slumping into the chair. "Depends on what you call rough. If you mean last Friday, then no-it was... entertaining."
Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You mean that girl?"
Joseph chuckled. "Yes, that girl. I don't even remember her name. But she was the highlight of my week. All I know is... she laughed at my stupid jokes."
Bruce laughed. "Well, you're in luck, man. Terry knows her."
Joseph froze mid-sip. "Terry? Knows her how?"
Bruce leaned back, smirking. "Old school friends. You've been worrying about this all week, and the solution's been sitting at your table every Friday."
Joseph grinned, excitement flickering in his chest. "You're a genius, Bruce. I knew there was a reason I keep you around."
"You're hopeless," Bruce said, shaking his head. "You can't keep living like this-late mornings, drinking every weekend, chasing girls you don't even remember."
Joseph lifted his cup like a toast. "And yet, here I am. Still breathing, still charming, still broke."
---
By evening, the bar was alive with music and laughter. Joseph, Bruce, and Terry arrived, taking their usual corner table. Fridays had become ritual-the release from a week that gave them little but monotony.
Joseph scanned the crowd. "Where is she?" he muttered, eyes darting across the bar. The girl from last Friday-the one who had laughed at all his jokes-was nowhere in sight. His chest tightened a little. How could she not be here?
He leaned toward Terry. "Hey That girl, you know her, right? Old school friends? The one I Chilled with last week. Give me her number. I need to talk to her... for science... friendship... survival," he added with mock seriousness.
Terry laughed, shaking his head. "Relax, man. She's not going anywhere. I'll send it to you. But calm down-you're making a scene."
Joseph grinned, leaning back. "Desperate? Me? Ha! I'm strategic. Very strategic."
Bruce rolled his eyes but said nothing, sipping his drink. He knew Joseph well enough to know that once his friend fixated on something, there was no stopping him.
---
Joseph raised his glass with a smile. "To another week of survival."
Bruce sighed. "To survival."
Terry laughed, pouring another round. "And to Joseph finally finding a job before we all grow old."
The three of them laughed, but only Joseph felt the heaviness beneath the sound. For him, it wasn't just a joke. It was the echo of a truth he couldn't shake-a life drifting without purpose.
But what he did not know was that this Friday night would not end like all the others. Something-or rather, someone-was about to step quietly into his life, and nothing in Joseph Xander's world would remain the same.
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End Chapter one, comment your views
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