“I was indeed,” Daniel says, pulling a messy clump of hair from his pocket. “Sorry that it’s…all in a heap,” he murmurs, awkwardly handing the lump of Kent’s hair to the doctor. I feel very odd, watching it change hands, fighting a ridiculous urge that rises in me to jump up and touch it myself.
Don’t be so creepy, I chide myself. Or desperate.
So, I force myself to relax back in my chair, watching the doctor take the sample and seal it into a little clear bag. Then, he takes the tube with Daniel’s cheek sample and tosses it in the trash.
“Will that be enough?” Daniel asks, anxious. The doctor holds the bag up to eye-level to take a better look.
“Should be,” the doctor says, looking closely. “I’m seeing some roots there, so, it should be good.”
“Two days?” I ask, standing up for re
