The doctor looked somewhere slightly to the left of where my eyes were. I took his hand and shook it; it was cold through the glove. He asked me "How long has it been," and I looked at him.
"A while," I said.
He asked me to take a seat on the table. The butcher's paper made a crinkling sound as I settled myself.
"Okay good," he said, facing away toward a wall. I looked at the wall too. There was a diagram of the digestive system tacked up. The twining intestines looked like sleek corridors in an ancient starship
buried long beneath the earth.
The