Eye For An Eye
I close the door behind me, relieved to have the three pieces of paper finally in hand: discharge summary, medical certificate, prescription. I resist the urge to pull down the Oakleys on my head to block out the room’s fluorescent white. Its ability to separate my fringe away from my eyes, acting as makeshift headband, strengthens my resolve.
I notice him already looking at me. My eyes drift instinctively to his bare limbs; first the left shoulder and then the rest of his slender arm, following it down to the pale-coloured hairs on his legs. He sits patiently in the waiting room aisle with girlfriend to his right. He wears his loose, grey singlet and matching footy shorts with confidence just short of bravado.
The peak of his baseball cap blocks my view for a moment but after a few steps he shows me his pistachio green eyes. I nod appreciatively. He remains seated. I don’t glance back.
I notice him already looking at me. My eyes drift instinctively to his bare limbs; first the left shoulder and then the rest of his slender arm, following it down to the pale-coloured hairs on his legs. He sits patiently in the waiting room aisle with girlfriend to his right. He wears his loose, grey singlet and matching footy shorts with confidence just short of bravado.
The peak of his baseball cap blocks my view for a moment but after a few steps he shows me his pistachio green eyes. I nod appreciatively. He remains seated. I don’t glance back.