text: Dr. Francis was waiting for his 9 o'clock patient. The doctor was sitting at his desk, scribbling down some notes with his illegible doctor calligraphy on a scrap piece of paper. He let his hand take total control, swiftly moving up and down across the white sheet of paper. His mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about something. He had been thinking about it all day. Since he opened his eyes. Since his brain had fully activated itself. While he was having breakfast. While he was drinking his daily glass of O.J. While he was reading the newspaper on his precious eReader. While he smoked a cigarette on his petite balcony, puffing away in the cold winter air. The entire morning, he had been thinking of the previous day. The previous dinner, to be specific. Which happened about 10 hours earlier. Dr. Francis heard a knock at his door. "Come in" he said, with a tone which was about to fall off the edge of politeness. A short little man with tiny squinty eyes entered the room. Armed with a gigantic smile and a blatantly recognizable toupee', he said "Hello, sir! What a pleasure to see you on this fine day!" "Yes..." replied Dr. Francis, trying to sound a tad less sad and gloomy than he actually was, "a fine day indeed". While the pig-man jabbered on about his tooth aches and his head aches and his back aches, Dr. Francis nodded seemingly apprehensively, while playing, pausing, rewinding what he had been playing, pausing, rewinding for the entire morning. He ate at Le Chateau Imperial. Last night of course. He didn't eat alone. He had company. Somebody very special. Not Darren, no. His one and only son, Darren, was far too busy to go out for dinner with his father, his biological father. He had serious business to take care of, which required most of his time, strength and energy. "So what should I do?" asked the pig-man, desperately trying to un-squint his eyes, as if the doctor's next words could only be seen and not heard. Silence ate up the room, for a a couple of terrible, terrible seconds. "Sir? Siiiir?" Dr. Francis snapped back to reality. He paused the Blu-ray he was playing in his head. He left it there, in his HD DVD/Blu-Ray player which he had bought only a few months ago. Which Claire had begged for. Which was now stacking up dust, under his majestic LCD Television set. "Yes, of course." said Dr. Francis, showing his patient that he had been paying attention, and that he was about to grant the pig-man with a delightful solution to his problems. He told him to sleep more, to go out for walks (in this cold winter weather? What were you thinking Dr. Francis?), to have decent meals, to avoid junk food, and to take painkillers if the pain didn't subside. "Thank you sir, I very much appreciate it." said the squinting pig-man, cupping his hands together, humbly expressing his gratitude, like a plebeian at the feet of his lord. Claire looked amazing last night. She wore a black dress, which Mr. Francis had carefully picked and bought for her previous birthday. It was sophisticated, yet it underlined Claire's natural curves, making her stand out in Le Chateau Imperial. She captured every male eye in the dining room, enveloping them in the black bliss which covered her voluptuous body. She gracefully walked towards Mr. Francis, her ex-husband, who immediately stood up as soon as she approached the table. The pig-man stood up as well, thanked the doctor again, and shook his strong firm hand. The rat-man walked out of the office, while jollily shouting: "See you next time sir, have a good one!" Dr. Francis was finally alone. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his paused Blu-ray. He let it play one more time. He helped her sit down, like a true gentleman, fooling all the other men in the room into believing that she was his personal trophy-wife. Or trophy girlfriend. That he was the one that could pass his hands over her silky caramel skin. Only him. Nobody else. "Hey honey!" shouted Melissa. "Honeeeeey!" "What do you want?" shouted back Dr. Francis, slightly irritated by the abrupt interruption. "Do you want a coffee? Or maaaybe a cappuccinoooo?" shouted Melissa with her benign but rather fastidious high rising terminal. Dr. Francis pictured her sitting on her leather chair, behind the counter of the reception, slightly leaning towards his door. She was very young, much younger than him. She was in her early twenties, full of life and libido, full of the desire to live, do things, go places. "I'll have a coffee, thanks. Black!" shouted Dr. Francis, picturing Melissa's looong red hair, and her looong soft legs, sitting there, only a few meters away from him. Only a white glass door with a light brown border separated them. "Oookay sweetie!" happily answered the girl, probably smiling at him behind that door, with her big warm smile inhabited by a perfect set of candid precious jewels. Only a few meters and the door separated them now. Only a few centimeters of air separated them 5 weeks ago. Only a few centimeters. They were lying on her bed. Naked. Breathing softly. Both staring at the ceiling. Not really looking at it, but just letting their eyes rest in one spot. Melissa opened the door and walked into Dr. Francis' office. She handed the cup of coffee to the doctor and said "Here you go, Dr. Francis" winking while pronouncing the sibilant "s" of Francisss. He thanked her with a smile, and romantically shooed her away. "Damn, she's gorgeous" he thought, while his personal secretary walked out of his office, gently shaking her cunning caboose from side to side, the sexiest and most hypnotizing pendulum you'll ever see. The Blu-ray un-paused. It was a different scene. It wasn't in the restaurant. Not in Le Chateau Imperial. Oh no. It was in his office. On the patient's bed. The type of bed with a large roll of Scottex at the top of it, so that each patient gets a personal and exclusive strip of Scottex. So that they don't end up sitting or touching where some other filthy patient sat or placed his body parts upon. She was on the bed. The Scottex was all crunched up. Her soft derriere was on the dark blue leather of the bed. The leather was cold. Smooth, but cold. He was standing in front of her. Her legs were on his shoulders. He was holding them. Holding her thighs. Her marble thighs. His pants were down to his feet, clumsily resting on his polished Cesare Paciottis. His shirt was on the ground, lying there where he threw it, looking at him with a scrumpled look. She wasn't wearing much. Her black skirt was somewhere on the cold floor. Her white shirt was half open, stuck to her sweaty skin, revealing her black lace bra. It seems as if she was trying to hold up the wall behind her with her hands. It seems as if she was having quite some fun. Dr. Francis was too. She was moaning. Looking at the handsome doctor dead in the eyes. Biting her lower lip. His eyes were locked into hers. She lured them in, locked them in, and threw away the key. He didn't know what it was exactly, but he couldn't stop looking at her. He couldn't stop admiring her beauty. Her long hair. Her emerald eyes. Her... He was looking out the window for quite a while now. Not really looking at anything in particular. Just resting his eyes out there, in the concrete jungle. He glanced down at his agenda, the one Claire had bought him only a few a months ago. The one with his initials inscribed into it, on the back cover, in small, classy, golden letters. M.F. He scribbled down some notes, and checked when his next patient would arrive. He had some time before his next appointment, so he got up, walked to the sink, had a glass of fresh tap water, and sat back down at his desk. He moved mechanically, like a robot. As if someone had switched the autopilot lever inside his brain. His thoughts wandered off again, while his eyes were fixed outside, in the frozen gray jungle. He didn't know which Blu-ray to play anymore. It's as if the memories were fighting each other, trying to defeat one other, and take the highest spot on the doctor's mental podium. Last night, his mind was free. When he saw her, with her beautiful black dress, his only thought was: "Damn, I'm a fucking idiot." He wasn't sad. He was just happy to finally see her. Even though she would probably never come back into his life. Even though he wanted her to bits. Even though she had probably moved on, found some rich guy or a random douche bag, he was happy. She seemed happy. Or maybe it was because of all the make-up, covering up her underlying facial expressions. He didn't care too much. He was simply mesmerized by her presence. They said Hi to each other, had some small talk, you know, how are you? How have you been? How's your job? You got a promotion? Really? Wow that's amazing! Yeah I've been pretty good myself. Darren? Oh he's great... Are you gonna come pick him up on Friday? Okay, perfect. Just make sure he brushes his teeth. And does his homework. And doesn't eat cyanide. Or any type of poison. So yeah... Mark paused the memory. He left it hanging there, in mid air. A knock on the door. "Come in" said Mark, suddenly making himself look busy, quickly throwing the remote of the Blu-Ray player in the corner of the room. "Hey, uhmmm" said Melissa, holding a pen between her luscious lips. "Your next patient is here, should I let her in?" "Who is it? I'm sorry, I just looked at it but I can't remember." answered Mark, raising his hands outwards, palms down, as if trying justify his momentary amnesia with that simple gesture. "It's Mrs Sheerer." said Melissa, cutely frowning at her boss. Dr. Francis rubbed his hands and exclaimed "Mrs. Sheerer! Of course! Well send her in." He looked at his wristwatch. 10:30. "Jesus Christ" he thought. "Why does time have to go by so goddamn slowly?" "Why hellooo Mrs Sheerer!" shouted the doctor, "How are we feeling today?!?" A fragile little lady had walked into the room; she looked as if the wind could take her away, rise her up into the sky, and move her around like a crunchy brown leaf. "Excuse me, Dr. Francis, I didn't quite catch what you said." Humbly answered the shaky old lady. Her ears hadn't been working very well for the past 2 years. "What I said was, HOW ARE WE FEELING TODAY?" shouted the doctor, not mad, not irritated, but with the patience of an American suburb high school substitute. "Oooh I'm okay my dear." replied the golden girl, holding her dark red leather purse in her hands, scared a ghost would snatch it and vanish in thin air. "My hearing device hasn't been working very well lately..." "Could you give it a look please?" shakily said Mrs Sheerer. "Of coourse I can" answered the doctor, extending his hand so that his ancient patient could hand him her audio-enhancing device. "Let's see..." he said, observing, analyzing, detecting any flaws in the small miraculous apparatus. "So how are you my dear? How's Claire? Is she at home taking care of Darren?" Dr. Francis kept his gaze on the device and said "Claire isss uuhhh..." A brief pause followed, disguised as distraction. "She's fine. Darren's probably in school by now." "You know" said the doctor, lifting his gaze up from the device, placing it out of the window, where it always found a comfy place to rest. "Life is pretty strange sometimes.You share your life with a person, for years and years. You share amazing experiences, you bond, you start relying on each other, needing each other. You live together. You do everything together. Or almost everything. And then, something happens. Either you fuck up, or they fuck up. We're only human in the end right? But that one thing can shatter whatever you had built till that moment. Everything you lived for is gone. Finito. Caput. It's incredible isn't it?" Dr. Francis paused for a moment, pondering on what had just spilled out of his mouth. Like a dirty vicious secret, which is meant to stay deep inside us, lingering beneath the surface. "I mean sure, sometimes you keep in touch. You see each other every now and then, to catch up and what not. But sometimes you're just erased. For the other person, you don't really exist anymore. Not physically. Maybe mentally, as a distant memory. Waving at you, moving further and further away, while the volume of the sad melancholy music gradually rises." Mrs. Sheerer was fidgeting with her thumbs, looking at them like a wise ancient ape. She looked up at the doctor and said: "Sorry did you say something dear?" Dr. Francis snapped back to reality once again. He had let the Special Features play. You know, the version of the movie with the audio commentary? "NOTHING, MRS SHEERER, I WAS JUST THINKING OUT LOUD!" shouted the doctor, cupping his hands around his mouth to make sure the old lady would hear him. Not sad, not irritated, quite happy actually. The Golden Girl's precious smile, her glazy eyes filled with cataracts, which had seen who knows how many things and bewitched who knows how many laddies; they bewitched the doctor as well. He couldn't be mad at the poor old lady for not having heard of word of his heart-breaking rant. He handed the hearing device to her, waited for her to put it in its place and said with a smile: "They should work perfectly now, Mrs Sheerer." "Thank you darling." replied the ancient patient. "Oh and, the best of luck to you and Claire!" she added, with a warm wrinkly smile. The doctor chuckled like a teen hitting puberty and said: "Yeah... Thanks.