"Dr. Grey!" A stocky young adult, with a blizzard of dark unkempt hair pinpointed the source of his name through the wave of people brandishing microphones and cameras. He cleared his throat and pointed.
"Yes. You in the gray."
A pale boy, about twelve, swayed lightly as he asked his question, face glowing with happiness, eyes glowing with something uninterpretable.
"Will you look for other cures?"
The doctor's voice crackled into the microphone as he leaned in and spoke,
"Dr. Grey, Dr. Grey!"
"Yes?" He queried motioning to one of the many hands raised in question.
"What about your work in urgent care? Are you going to continue that alongside your research?"
Dr. Grey grinned as he mimicked his previous reply.
Another question fired at him immediately. "Is it true that you haven't lost a single patient?"
The grin widened on his face.
A laugh rippled through the crowd.
"What made you want to go into urgent care?"
There was a pause as the doctor frowned. "Well," he finally began, "the same thing that brought my attention to the field of medicine. A good," he paused. "A good friend of mine died because of a careless mistake made by a doctor, and my sister grew up with a terminal heart defect. I thought, if can make things even a little less painful, if I could give life back, if I could save even one life, then I would be doing what I came here to do. I wanted to help personally."
The audience lingered in a hushed state as their minds pondered and comprehended his emotionally stirring story before the same pale boy posed another timid question.
"Do you have a family?"
"Absolutely." They laughed again until the doctor decided to enunciate. "I have a beautiful wife and a baby girl on the way."
Another person asked, "And how does Mrs. Grey feel about the amount of time you spend working?"
The persistent grin on Dr. Grey resurfaced. He raised his eyebrows. "Well we've had our share of debates, but we've both come to terms regarding what 'reasonable hours' means, and she understands why I have to work so much."
With the remaining traces of his easy grin, he stood up and flattened out the scrubs that he hadn't yet changed out of. "I think we're out of time here. And I've got to get back to my wife," he added.
As he stood to take his leave, his eyes inexplicably wandered to the face of the pale boy in gray. He wasn't sure what, but something about that face froze into his memory like a crumbling statue in an under-visited museum. Maybe it was the eyes, glazed with a skin-deep happiness, rooted with something sad, something lonely, something heavy on a light heart.