You wake up while the sun is stretching upwards, leaving bright stripes across your bedroom floor.
Lazily, you look at the clock, but then jump up when you see the time. You’re late… again.
You rush to get ready, and by doing that you receive a very unwelcome blast of ice-water while showering.
Finally, you’re ready, and you’re literally sprinting out the door so you won’t be late.
When you arrive, your friend is waiting, rather impatiently, outside the coffee house, tapping her foot on the asphalt and blowing out puffs of air in the below-zero weather.
You jump out of the car, hastily shut the door, and run to meet her.
“You’re late,” she scolds.
“Only two minutes,” you argue.
“Two minutes,” she scoffs. “Do you know how cold it is?”
“You could’ve gone inside,” you point out.
She rolls her eyes and then you both proceed to enter the coffee house.
You order a small coffee and a cinnamon roll, which your friend eats most of, leaving only the middle.
You and your friend don’t speak the whole time.
Sigh.
Today you’ll have to dissect a human. Not the part of medical school you are looking forward to, to say the least.
You check your watch and stand.
It’s time to go.
Finally.
“Okay!” your professor shouts over the noise. “Today’s the dissection of the human. I’ll split you up into groups, once Ally Arrives.”
You give a slight smile.
That’s your friend.
A few minutes later, Ally arrives, looking very flustered.
“Thank you, Ally, for gracing us with your presence!” the professor says.
A few snickers travel around the room, yours included, while Ally’s cheeks turn a bright red, resembling a maraschino cherry.
Once Ally takes her seat, the professor lists off the groups and you head to your assigned room.
When the door opens, you see your mother.
On the table.
Dead.
You stare for a bit, mouth wide open, nearly touching the floor.
Then you run.
Out the room.
Down the hall.
Out the building.
You won’t dissect your own mother.
Being a doctor just ain’t worth it.
