David Sinuel ran his hand nervously through his hair. He mumbled his lines under his breath, praying to not forget them this time. He checked his watch another time, but not even a minute had passed since the last time he'd checked. His knee bounced displaying his nervousness to everyone else in the room. He cracked his neck, trying to ease his pain. He stood up, hoping to find reprieve from the waiting room.
"Excuse me," he approached the receptionist, "can you tell me where the bathroom is?'
"Oh, it just down the hall on your left. There's a sign on the door, so you can probably find it yourself," she kindly replied.
David stepped into the clean restroom and washed his face. He wiped the water from his face with the hem of his shirt, then stared at himself in the mirror. His head began to hurt again so he popped an ibuprofen into his mouth and took a few deep breathes. He continued to whisper what he needed to say under his breathe, not wanting to miss a single word. He looked in the mirror and noticed his hair was a mess, due to him repeatedly running his fingers through it. Spending a few minutes to fix his hair calmed down his nerves just slightly.
David stepped out of the bathroom and walked back to the waiting room. The receptionist fed him a glance as he sat down, but nothing more. He waited, repeating his mantra, and occasionally glancing at his watch. Wait a minute, where was his watch. David moved his sleeve to look at the watch one more time, but it wasn't there. He stood up, checked both wrists, then rummaged through each of his pockets, but to no avail. His watch had suddenly disappeared.
"I might've left it in the restroom," he tried to assure himself.
Despite searching the entire bathroom multiple times, David's watch was nowhere to be found. He again stairs into the mirror, this time trying to remember where his watch might be. A groan leaves his mouth and he punches the mirror in frustration. He runs his fingers through his hair, it now feeling slick with sweat. He wipes his hand on his shirt, but his hand continues to drip. David looks down and his knuckles are slick with blood.
His heartbeat quickens and he furiously tries to clean it up. David then wraps his hand in paper towels and shoves it fully into his jacket pocket. Stepping back into the waiting room, he continues to whisper the lines he mustn't forget.
"Excuse me," the receptionist politely chimes. "Did you forget your watch?"
"Where was it?" David worriedly asks.
"Oh, you left it on your seat."
David clenches his fist, then grabs the watch with forced calm. He puts his watch back on, then sits with his head in his hand. He loses track of time as he sits reciting his lines and feels his pocket pool with blood, it seeping through the pocket, wettening his shirt underneath.
"Is David here?" the receptionist calls.
He begins to raise his hand, but switches before it can leave his pocket. He stands up at the receptionists beckoning.
"Head to room #219," she directs. Seeing a second of David's hesitation, she adds, "It's just down the hall to the left."
David has a brief moment of deja vu, then heads down the hall as instructed. Upon arriving at the door, he nervously opens it. He steps into the room, which is absent of a nurse, despite how long past his scheduled appointment it was.
"Sorry for the wait," the nurse apologizes as she finally steps into the room.
She begins the routine David's been through hundreds of times. Sit still and let them check your blood pressure, don't move as they check inside your ears, relax your breath as they listen to your heartbeat, what letters does the chart say, say, "ahh" as they look inside your mouth, pee in this cup. The nurse jots down the results after each of these, looking worried after a few, then steps out of the room to get the doctor.
David stood up, despite how lightheaded the motion made him feel, and grabbed a handful of paper towels and shoved them into his pocket to soak up his blood, then shakily sat down.
The doctor strode into the room soon afterwards. "Did I keep you long?" he asks then sits down without waiting for an answer.
He looks over his papers for a moment, then asks, "So, David, how are you feeling today?"
"I'm good, I've actually been feeling a lot better recently," David coolly responds. He can't stop the thumping he feels pounding in his head or the cool sweat running down his neck, but he responds as best he can.
"Wait…" the doctor suspiciously says, "…I think the nurse forgot to check your height and weight. Please stand up for a second."
David jumps to his feet, instantly regretting it. His senses start to mute and he suddenly gets tunnel-vision. His mind dilates as his legs collapse and he falls to the floor, unable to keep his eyes open. His body emotionlessly hits the floor, he hears the doctor calls his name, and he loses consciousness.
David awakes in his bed. His bed is soft and he can't help but try to fall back asleep. He fails, so then sits up looking at his watch. The glass is cracked and his reflection is shattered. He doesn't recognize himself anymore.
He looks away, suddenly feeling much happier. David stands up and walks toward the door, stumbling with his first step. He reaches out for the doorknob, then notices the stitches across his fist.
"What's happening to me?" he worriedly wonders, with no recollection of what might've happened.