Kael
Breakfast arrived before the result.
I ate half of it.
The attendant had put the tray where I could reach it from the chair. My own cup stood beside it, with the handle turned toward the hand I could use more comfortably.
I had learned the arrangement during the night. Used things stayed for the observation staff. A clean tray arrived without becoming an invitation to follow its carrier into the ordinary passage.
The bread was good. I tried to give it the attention it deserved while listening to footsteps beyond the door.
Twice, they passed without stopping. The third set paused long enough for me to put down the piece in my hand.
It was only the attendant checking whether I needed more water.
"Not yet," I said.
He looked at the cup, nodded and left me to finish.
I drank some anyway. Waiting for a result had apparently made me suspicious of perfectly ordinary service.
