Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
“Hello, Ms. Willson I’m–” I could practically hear the polite introduction turn into frustration as the doctor cut himself off. “You,” he finished instead dropping his tablet to his side as he looked at me.
For my part I grinned, letting one leg swing softly even as I clutched my abdomen. “Yep, me!”
His jaw moved in a grinding noise, and I could practically hear the words in his head: in the hospital again.
Raising my free hand, I rubbed my temple furiously, trying to push away the pain of the accusation stabbing into my brain. “It’s not my fault.”
He scoffed and grabbed the stool hauling it nearby. “It’s never your fault,” he retorted, plopping the tablet onto the bed and himself on the stool. “So, what’s ‘not your fault’ this time.” I didn’t appreciate the air quotes.
I considered scowling back but aggravating him wouldn’t help. Few doctors had his skills. Sighing, I lowered my arm revealing the small creature nestled inside my abdomen.
“What? How?” he said in quick succession and leaned forward.
“Don’t ask.” I groaned. “And never try combining pixies’ and brownies’ food times.” That bright idea hadn’t been mine, but the pixies hadn’t bothered to hit my supervisor for his decisions. I doubted the doctor would blame him either.
I had a tendency toward magical mishaps. So what? “Just fix it.”
Laughing, the doctor retrieved his kit. We both knew this wouldn’t be my last visit. He’d try for the tale again.
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