After a break up and a bout of binge drinking before a blood test, I found myself in a hospital gown at eight in the morning.
As I’m sitting awkwardly on the table waiting to be examined, a young blonde girl with a tight ponytail comes into the room. Immediately I’m self-conscious, and wonder what happened to the nice middle-aged Indian woman who had greeted me, and told me to undress.
I’m Nicole.
I introduce myself, and we get to know each other while she rubs jelly on my stomach. She asks where I live in town, and I tell her. She mentions how she would weekly go get pastries and Slurpees down the block from me. I returned the favor and asked where she lived, right near a place I had a part time job.
We’ve probably run into each other a million times without knowing it.
And she’s pretty, and I’m in a backless gown so I just let out one thing.
Probably.
You don’t mind that I’m practicing on you do you?
No, not at all.
You have really nice looking insides.
I just stare at her. You don’t hear that compliment often, unless you know serial killers. She started to back peddle.
I meant I can see everything easily. I get a lot of old people in here. It’s a refreshing change.
Thirty minutes later she’s finally done taking pictures of my organs, and I wonder what base putting jelly on my stomach is. I’d just met her and she saw way more of me than the three-year relationship I’d just gotten out of. And when it was over, I couldn’t get myself to say anything close to asking her out, I just smile and sheepishly walk away.
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