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.

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© 2013 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved