#pls dont worry about matching length!!! this is an open starter for anyone who wants to reply!!!

[florence-wilson]

June 29th, 1979

Saint Mungo’s Hospital || The Service Desk Queue

It had been too long since Florence Wilson found herself in Saint Mungo’s for anything that felt good. The hospital wasn’t typically a place that people went by choice or for any happy occasion. Far too often, they entered through the large, looming doors by no choice of their own, either to be treated for some kind of ailment or to visit a loved one or a friend who had fallen ill or been the victim of some attack. Florence knew all too well what that kind of hospital visit felt like. Over the past year, she’d spent enough time visiting friends, allies, and co-conspirators in the fight against the Death Eaters to know the layout of Saint Mungo’s like the back of her hand.

She never really thought that she would come back to Saint Mungo’s for anything other than to visit the sick. Since dropping out of her training to become a healer, there wasn’t really a point to it. Most of her days were spent working in her father’s flower shop, waiting around and filling orders and working in a job that she didn’t truly feel passionate about. As much as it pained her, she knew that she had to help her father with things. Her mother was dead. He never truly returned to perfect health after losing her. It was only right that Florence stay back and help her father make ends meet.

But as time went on, Florence knew that she wouldn't ever be happy working where she was. She needed to do something that she was passionate about. She needed to go back to feeling useful, feeling productive, doing something more than the honorable thing of fulfilling her duty to her family. The longer that she worked at the flower shop, the less she felt like she was being true to herself. She'd spent years dreaming of becoming a healer. Why waste all those years of ambition on doing something that would never truly and completely satisfy her?

As she waited in the line at the service desk at Saint Mungo's, Florence mentally prepared herself for what she was about to do. Singing the paperwork to re-enroll in the program was the first step in taking full control of her life and her future. It was about time that she did so. So why did she feel a pit in her stomach, a painful sense of anxiety that she couldn't quite shake? Florence moved her hand to run it through her hair, and in the process, accidentally dropped the papers she'd been holding between her arm and her torso. "Why?" she moaned, leaning over to pick them up, almost embarrassed that people had to see her at was arguably one of her more nervous moments.