The tapped by fingers against my knee in the same rhythm as the ticking of the clock as each second passed by. I examined the decently sized hardwood desk that was in front of me that had the usual set up on it. A desktop calendar, a stack of files- patient files, no doubt- a gold fountain pen, a photo frame that faced away from me, and an office telephone.
There had been a fifteen minute delay since the Doctor that I was here to meet was still in surgery. So, instead, I was informed to wait here.
I was ready and my senses were sharp as ever to pick up even the slightest slip in this facade that my father and this doctor were cohorts in.
My mother tried calling me earlier this morning but I had ignored it. It had taken her three days, since the incident took place with my father, to c
