With a blank expression, I listened carefully as the doctor told me the diagnoses.
I was sick, apparently. Hazed brown met cold blue eyes.
But did he really care? As a doctor it was his job to tell you what's wrong, but it was not in his job description to care. I gave a curt nod and paced my way out of the lobby to my car. I have to say I had gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than normally, but it made no difference once the ignition was started.
I made my way over to the familiar marble plot. It was 43 degrees outside, and normally someone with an illness would be inside their cozy house, wrapped in a blanket. A pleasant image to imagine, too bad it wasn't reality.
Though I suppose it made sense to come here because I was sick. On a second glance at the slated marble bearing the name of my recently deceased grandmother, I realized it made perfect sense.
I reached in my pocket to retrieve a special gift I had brought. I had neither the money nor the time to buy expensive bouquets of flowers; instead I left a single four leaf clover on top the grave. With a small smile I turned to walk back to my car.