AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Pizzas?” he asks, giving me a quizzical look.
“Sounded like the perfect job, driving around all day with the smell of pizza in your car.”
He bobs his head up and down. “That’s a good point.”
My work phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out and look at it.
Evie: Five minutes
“Evie,” I say and hold the phone up to him.
His mouth falls open. “Five minutes? She times you?”
“She sure does, that soggy potato chip.”
He offers a half smile, his expression tinged with curiosity. “Soggy potato chip? Is this like the stale cracker comment you made about Cinnamon the gerbil?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s my kinder way of insulting people. It also brings me joy to think them up.”
“I like it,” he says, his face amused.
“Feel free to use it.”
He looks away like he’s thinking about it. “A torn latex glove.”
“Ooh, with a doctor spin.” I give him an approving nod. “Well done.”
“Rusty scalpel,” he says.
“Misplaced syringe,” I add.
“Dropped urine sample.”
I scrunch my nose at that one. “Bent forceps.”
He laughs. “I see the appeal.”
“Right?” I stand up from the table. “Well, I better get back to it.”
“Me too,” he says, pushing his chair back before getting up.
We make quick work of putting our food back in the fridge, neither of us having eaten much since we spent the whole time talking, and then we both wash our hands in the break room sink before heading back to the main area of the ER.
As we pass the supply room, Graham stops. “Broken otoscope,” he says.
“Another one,” I say, giving him an appreciative nod.
“No.” He shakes his head, a smile on his face. “No, actually, I dropped my otoscope when we were looking for Cinnamon and it broke. Are there more in there?” He bobs a head toward the closed door with a sign that says Medical Supply Room on the door.
“I think so,” I say, fidgeting with the door handle; there’s something wrong with it and it doesn’t always open that easily.
I finally get it open, my nose filling with the familiar scents of latex gloves and rubbing alcohol. I reach my hand around the corner and hit the switch, fluorescent lighting instantly filling the room.
Graham follows me inside, the door closing behind him, and trails behind me as I move toward the other side of the compact space, where I’m pretty sure we have a stash of all different types of scopes.
The room is floor-to-ceiling shelves, all meticulously organized with everything in bins and labeled, with the most often used items within arm’s reach. An otoscope is unfortunately not one of those things. They are used often, but not something you need to replace often. Unless it broke because you were on your hands and knees looking for an escaped gerbil.
Today has been weird.
