"I'll be with you in just a moment," the doctor said. "Feel free to make yourself comfortable," he waved his arm toward the couch, "or go grab a soft drink while I finish these notes. The machine is just there." He pointed out the door.I wasn't thirsty but my curiosity got the best of me. The only reason I came here was because Alison said Dr. Matthews could help me, that he had a great way of making his patients feel comfortable. She should know, since she's been to every shrink in the tri-state.I walked out into the hall and suddenly noticed a musty smell. The farther I walked, the worse the decay became. With horror, I looked into what had at one time been a breakroom. The pop machine was almost normal in a sea of architectural death.I quickly made my way back to the doctor's office and sat quietly on the couch. It was much dustier and moldier than it first appeared.The doctor's chair creaked loudly as he turned toward me. "So, what brings you here today?"I was too afraid to answer.
In some ways, the doctor's office is creepier than the breakroom -- it's almost too normal, yeah? I offer 189 words this week on the two photos offered over at SCPP. Click here to visit and add your thoughts.