"what seems to be the issue?"

Living in the hospital near the corner of Front Street, Dr. Sunshine is a quite mysterious and obscure doctor who tries to help anyone in the best way that he can.

Nobody knows who he really is.

((NOTE: Dr. Sunshine is inspired by Will Wood's song, "Dr. Sunshine Is Dead", not Will Wood himself. His backstory and character traits are entirely my creation. He was made just for fun!))

 "The doctor is in!"

"Well, who should I be then, if I’ll never be the same?"

Something's wrong. Something's very, very wrong.

You couldn't tell at first, but it seems so apparent to you now. Perhaps it was the way how fancy and welcoming the hospital had seemed, with lavish carpets and beautiful music lingering in the air. Or it was how kind and gentle he seemed, reaching towards you with a carefully gloved hand and tending to your wounds as if it was the only thing he cared about. It might even be with how he responded toward your small grunt of pain, to which he had quickly rushed over to aid you.

It was so nice, so caring.

Now you're in your room; your new room, he says. He even decorated it until he was sure you were going to like it, from a boring, dull, white patient room to a colorful, comforting one, though the hospital aspects were still there. And even after he had worked himself to the core of pleasing you, he would then prepare you your most favorite food, making sure every last bite was flavorful as it could be.

It was wonderful. It is wonderful.

So why does it feel so wrong? You would only have this lingering thought after the man had left you alone. A realization. Maybe it was how welcoming and kind he seemed, despite having no one else residing there with him. It made you suspicious. Or perhaps it was, while eating dinner you would start to acknowledge the stitches, stretching from his lips to his ears and how unusual that seemed. And how awfully skinny he was... you now just realize he hadn't even eaten at all, he was too busy making sure you were content. Possibly it was his eyes-- despite how unique and colorful they seemed, they had always looked so dull and empty-- or the dark purple bags underneath them as if he hadn't slept properly in ages.

Now you know. Now you know something's wrong. There’s almost no life left in that thin body of his. His eyes are empty, his grin hollow and voice laced with the sweetest poison.  You don't know how to confront him. You're not even sure if you want to.

Yet, despite all this, you're not quite sure if you'd like to leave.

It's not like he'd let you, anyway.