Gina looked at the others who were sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office and a chill ran down her spine. She approached the only seat available, but decided to stand once she noticed an indiscernible stain all over the seat.
Across the room someone started hacking. People shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Another woman groan in pain.
“Brody Gundarson,” called the woman behind the counter. “Room two.”
Brody got up and Gina quickly filled his vacated chair. She clung to her purse, holding it like a barrier between her and the mysterious diseases lingering in the air.
It seemed like an awful lot to go through for a letter from a doctor. Her employer insisted on a clean bill of health for all it’s employees. Initially, Gina bristled at the demand. Understating that it was a once in a lifetime job, she figured it would be worth the effort.
Surrounded by a room full of sick people, her conviction wavered ever so slightly. Was the whole world sick except her, she wondered. The feeling of fragility was terrifying.
The man beside her threw up all over the floor. The splash narrowly missed her shoes. It caused a chain of vomiting and retching among the other patients.
Her stomach churned. The smells made her head swim. Would she catch what was going around? Fear evolved into panic. Panic became flight. She stood up, tiptoed around the puddles of vomit and fled the room.
Behind the counter, the woman watched as the door closed behind Gina. She pulled a folder and wrote a note. ‘Another candidate failed the exam.’