The Doctor

[Midii]

Please excuse the horrible quality of writing since I'm in a bit of a hurry and didn't proofread it. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

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It was the beginning of winter, flu season; a normal day for Caroline. The clinic was filled with sneezes and coughs; women holding lace-trimmed handkerchiefs with children on their lap, their eyes glazed with fever. Caroline herself was feeling a sort of heaviness inside her head, accompanied by the dull aching of a sore throat. Even so, she decided it was the effect of the weather; she was still getting used to the cold in this unfamiliar town, with frost webbing across her windows each morning.

The register was long and she could barely read her own handwriting, the result of overworking and exhausted eyes. They were short staffed: she was a nurse, but doubled as a receptionist when necessary. Absently retrieving the ball pen from her pocket, she looked down at the booked appointments and crossed out the finished ones; Hutchkins, Brenda, the woman with five children, all of them cold-riddled and miserable; and Jones, Edward, the elderly gentleman with pneumonia. She squinted at the name beneath that, making a mental note to write neater.

‘Evelyn,’ she said over the microphone, ‘Evelyn Winchester.’

An elegant woman of about twenty-three, her platinum-streaked hair elegantly braded in a French braid that curved down her neck, stood up, brushed the seat, then collected her handbag and set it on the counter. ‘Yes?’ she said, adjusting the sleeves of her trench coat. Her voice was hoarse, as though she’d been yelling all day; Caroline wondered what her own voice sounded like and whether she should take a lozenge.

‘If you’d like to sign these forms, Miss Winchester, and wait until I call you.’ The dull throbbing in Caroline’s throat was intensifying. She cleared it and collected the signed forms. ‘Thank you.’

Evelyn nodded and sat down again.

The wait was long, since the clinic was the only one in that area and little fund for schools ensured that children were packed close together. Caroline watched as a boy, about seven, began coughing deeply. His sister, sitting beside him, joined in, and it was their mother who had to cover their mouths with tissues and rub their backs soothingly. She toyed with the idea of getting out the cough drops from her pocket but decided it would appear unprofessional; after all, sick people weren't meant to be working.

Anyway, she wasn't sick. It was the cold weather messing with her body.

She began entering data into an online form; the screen blurred and the white fused with the swirly black writing. She rubbed her eyes and sighed. A few seconds later, she suddenly jumped up, remembering she'd touched a damp tissue left on a patient's seat a few minutes ago. Whatever, she thought, I don't care if I get the flu. This was a blatant lie which did nothing to comfort her, so she rubbed her hands thoroughly with hand sanitizer and tried to concentrate on the numbers in front of her. Close by, a young man drew out his tartan handkerchief and muffled a few strong sneezes in it. Hiih’Nkxshh! Heh-hxnnt! She watched as he struggled to pin down the imminent fit, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his quick breaths, then finally gave in with a sigh as he pitched forward with a string of fast, powerful stifles. Afterwards, he leaned back, sighed, then removed his handkerchief from his pink nose, giving wet, loud sniffles. The congestion soon overpowered him as he coughed weakly, the sound coming from deep inside his chest.

'Caroline?' Dr. Grant opened the door of his office, 'I'm ready to see the next patient, thank you.'

Caroline nodded and beckoned Evelyn Winchester to the room, glad for an excuse to leave the computer.

Ah, Dr. Grant. He was a relatively young doctor but one of the most respected. He had already submitted over five papers to the prestigious M.A.A. international conference, won the G.P. Excellence Award of the Year, and was known for his charity work in East Timor and Burma. Caroline liked to watch his delicate, long fingers gripping a fountain pen, moving across the page and forming a ripple of blue ink. His blue eyes and light copper hair and insanely good looks paired with his friendly, caring personality made for more than a few crushes from the nurses. Being more reserved than her gossipy colleagues, Caroline had kept her mouth shut about her 'crush' (Caroline disliked using that word; it sounded soppy and juvenile) on Dr. Grant, but she was certain he knew about it. After all, she was always blushing in front of him--something which she couldn't seem to control.

But there was nothing wrong with liking him. After all, they were both single.

As far as she knew, anyway.

[Jorm]

Pish, horrible quality my arse! Don't be silly, this is an excellent story so far! I definitely hope you continue it!

[Dusty15]

This is lovely! I can't wait to read more

[ichixshiro14]

If this is horrible quality, I could only imagine how good your great quality work is! I'm definitely loving this! Thanks for sharing!