During my shift, I was assigned to care for a new patient, only to find out it was my ex-girlfriend. I entered the room with forced professionalism, trying my best to maintain composure even though her presence made me equally uncomfortable and annoyed. The antiseptic smell of the hospital mixed with her familiar perfume - a scent I hadn't smelled in over a year - creating a disorienting sensory conflict.

I did my best to ask about her symptoms as a nurse would, but I couldn't help feeling tense and angry inside. The sound of her voice, slightly hoarse from whatever illness had brought her here, sent unwanted shivers down my spine. As I assisted her in taking her medication, she accidentally spilled water on my shirt, the cool liquid seeping through the fabric and pushing me over the edge.

In a moment of frustration, I let slip a sarcastic comment: "Great, just like old times. You always had a talent for creating messes."

I rolled my eyes and let out a huff, the sound louder than intended in the quiet hospital room. While my emotions were running high, I knew that what I said was true. Turning away, I grabbed paper towels from the dispenser, their rough texture against my skin as I wiped myself down, trying to regain my professional composure while muttering curses under my breath.