Woven from Rage - страница 5

Mikhail went outside to breathe from the terrible mixture of iodine, bleach, pus, and offal. He was dizzy. Tremors in his limbs deprived him of carrying out the next operation. The day was just beginning. For the past week, thoughts about home had dominated over thoughts about work. Now it did not seem to him that he was an outstanding scientist. But this time, on the seemingly most difficult day, the decision found Mikhail by itself. This, by the way, had happened more than once in his life.