The Clinic

I'm feeling extremely sick today. I made a trip to the clinic earlier, and I sat beside a fellow in the waiting room. He struck up a conversation with me. We talked about how his wife had the same cancer he had. He was waiting on her in the waiting room because he never liked to hear what the doctor had to say. "It was too depressing to see his wife cry," he said.

They called me back, and apparently I have an infection somewhere in my body that was causing a high fever. The doctor asked me if I had been hallucinating, I assured him that I hadn't been. I just felt extremely weak and cold. To which he responded, "Are you sure? The receptionist told us you were talking to yourself in the waiting room."

I was completely embarrassed. I was so sick that I didn't realized the man in the waiting room was dead. Thinking back, the man was talking strangely as if his wife would be joining him soon. I simply didn't catch it.

I hate how the dead automatically know they can talk to me, but they don't warn me that they're dead and that I might look like a lunatic talking to the air. I suppose they do look a lot different than the living, but only if you're paying attention. So, I guess, it's my fault. I just need to be more attentive in public from now on.