Rhett
I sat on the paper-lined bed while Dr Maxwell checked the same things he always checked.
He hummed to himself as he worked. I knew that hum. It meant he was thinking hard and trying not to say anything before he was sure.
"Again," he said, lifting the stethoscope. "Deep breath in."
I did. My chest rose. The air went all the way down this time without catching. It surprised me. A week ago, it had burned to breathe like that.
"And out," he said.
I let it go. He watched me, then listened again in four places. His brow creased. He checked my oxygen level. He checked my blood pressure. He checked a scan. He checked whatever else he kept in that long head of his.
When he finally stepped back, he looked at me like I had turned into a new person while he wasn't watching.
"This is… better," he said, and the word sounded small for what his eyes were doing. "No—this is much better."
I lifted a shoulder. "I feel… lighter, I guess."
