Creative Writing: Censored Mondays

Sara adored Mondays. In fact, Monday was her favorite day of the whole week, which was strange, since most people hated Mondays. Every Monday, Sara would receive a letter from her fiancé, Steven. Steven lived in South Carolina since he owned a popular hardware shop. Sara, who also ran a business, lived thousands of miles away in San Diego, California. Since the year before, the two had written endless amounts of letters back and forth. Her husband-to-be would soon join her in California once he sold his business.
Every Monday, Sara would jog up to the mailbox that sat at the foot of her gravel driveway, and would wait for the friendly mail carrier to hand her each package, postcard, and glitzy advertisement that came her way. And finally,

She whisked through baggage claim, and a taxi cab waited to drive her to the hospital where Steven was staying. Taking a deep breath, she charged right inside the hospital. “I’m looking for Steven Gardner. Where is he?” Sara demanded to a nurse. When the nurse attempted for Sara to sign paperwork, she ran away and headed to find Steven herself, in a whirlwind of wheeling carts and trays carried by nurses. Finally, a door that read Gardner, Steven stood right in front of her. One knock and a turn of a handle later, Sara stood face to face with her fiance and his brother. Lying on a hospital bed was Steven, who looked lifeless. It were as if he was just a body connected to multiple machines and hooked up to tubes. His complexion was more pale than the dull walls of the hospital itself. Steven looked peaceful and calm, as he had no idea that his fiancé was staring right at him. Sara sat down at the foot of his bed, crossed her legs, and blinked. She had learned that blinking was the only thing that would ever stop her from crying, besides her own unwillingness to cry. Yet this simple task suddenly became hard to