she raised a manicured finger towards, her phone vibrating across the desk, grabbed it and said
i was trapped in her small office working on the small machine
‘i don’t give a fuck what miracle the doctor performed, explain to ne exactly what DNR means’
i grab my tools and nake fir the door, she sets the phone against her ample chest
‘no, it’s fine. i need the machine working.’
i go back to it, but so does she
‘he was dead, correct? then he cake back on his own? no. he was what? thats correct, resuscitated. and as we just confirmed, the d is do, and the n ia not, and help me out here, the r? oh yes. tell ne why he is still alive.’
i replace the part, realign the gears, set to home and hit start, paper is pulled, folded and inserted.
‘that is great! no, not the negligence on the oart of the fucking doctor, the tech fixed my machine. someone is fucking competent.’
i tip my hat and leave.
she begins screaming and i have to listen the entire walk to the car.