By M.P. Witwer
“He would never forget those hands.” Frowning, Karen crossed out the sentence — too ambiguous.
She shifted nervously in the waiting room chair, trying to concentrate on her creative writing assignment to “craft a complete, unequivocal story using six words.”
“Screw you and your impossible assignment.” Probably wouldn’t fly.
Eventually, just one line remained:
“Relief came, then tears: ‘It’s benign.’”
Perfect. With a wan smile, she nodded in faint satisfaction.
Upon hearing her name called, however, Karen’s anxiety returned. She stowed her notebook, rose unsteadily and followed the nurse — clutching a fervent hope that life was about to imitate art.
* * *
© 2013 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved