A text came in right before he entered into the spacious, dull office that welcomed him once a year. See you later, darling. Everything’s alright. Remember: just a check up.
The edges of his lips curled upwards as a soft red blush emerged on his face. I’d rather be with you. Can’t wait for tonight.
Within a few minutes, the forms were filled out and he was seated on a hard cushion next to a stand full of magazines. He flipped through several. Get your bikini body ready for the season! one said. Check out Sarah Milta’s new bae! another said. The rest of the time was spent listening to the light humming of the fan above.
A receptionist called his name and he passed through the doors. Each step, he breathed heavily. Instinctively, he touched and rubbed the side of his neck where an irritating insect bite lay. May this go away before dinner.
But it wasn’t just that. When the white-coated physician entered the private room with a tube across his neck, questions were asked. Simple ones, of course. They were the same ones asked a year ago, but not all of them were negative. Not this time.
Irritations in the throat and hard breathing alerted the doctor who constantly consulted the computer by the equipment. The stethoscope deteriorated the usual smile on his face. “Anything else?” This time, his voice seemed far more inquisitive than normal.
Putting down the cell phone, he slowly reached for the bug bite that seemed larger than the last time it was touched.
Data was entered into the system and checked twice.
Then the question came. “Do you have any family history with cancer?”
Copyright © 2015 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.