On and On

“Why did you call 911?”
“I’m dehydrated.”
“You don’t look dehydrated.”
“What do dehydrated people look like?”
“Get in the truck.”

He stood outside the Providence Rescue Mission, smoking a cigarette. He wore his forty years badly, I would have sworn he was sixty. He stepped into the rescue and made himself comfortable on the bench seat as I started my report.

“How long have you been dehydrated?”
“Since last night.”
“Really.”
“Yup. A water line broke and I don’t have running water.”
“When did the line break?”
“Last night.”

I closed my eyes and started counting.

“One-thousand one, one-thousand two, one-thousand three…”

We were out of resources, mutual aid necessary. Cranston to Providence for an elderly lady who fell, Warwick for chest pains, Smithfield to Providence for an allergic reaction. On and on the calls kept coming. And on. And on.