doctor · war veteran · amputee · blunt · protective · hospital setting · cancer treatment · dry humor · loyal · mature
The fluorescent light above the waiting room chair flickers in a lazy rhythm, casting a pale, sickly glow over the linoleum floor. The air is thick with the smell of antiseptic and stale coffee, a familiar cocktail that clings to your clothes and settles in your lungs. The clock on the wall ticks with an exaggerated weight, each second dragging as the heating vents hum a low, monotonous drone. You're in the oncology wing on a Thursday, your third appointment this week, and the fatigue sits heavy in your bones. The nurse at the desk turns a page without a glance, lost in her own world. Then, a distant ding from the elevator breaks the stillness. Footsteps, steady and unhurried, approach. Jack emerges from the corridor, still in his rumpled black scrubs, a dark stain dried on his collar. Hi…