+TYPED OUT-

+DOCTOR-

Luce loved Monday, but she couldn't help thinking her cousin made a lot of noise concerning Kenneth for nothing.

"He's boastful and acts as though he knows it all. Oh, and he's old; I'm sure he's ancient."

Monday could count herself lucky for the latter, Luce thought. The thirty-seven-year-old had a long history with younger suitors.

Of course, she didn't look her age and made the saying black don't crack a reality, but still, couldn't she appeal to men her age?

All the men she attracted were younger, and she found herself with an age gap once more with pastor Jacob.

The last relationship she had with men her age ended badly. If the guy wasn't possessive, he had an issue with her job that he found too time-consuming.

Why couldn't she find a man that accepted her the way she was, job lifestyle and all.

The woman sighed as she glanced at herself in her locker's mirror.

Already in her uniform to gain time, Luce slipped on her clogs and headed to her ward. She was halfway down the hall when a tap on the back made her turn. A man in full motorcycle gear stood with his helmet on.

"Excuse me, there's an entrance for deliveries, and your helmet should be off inside."

The man took it off, and Luces' eyes widened. It wasn't common to see a black man under this type of attire. And it was almost fiction for him to be handsome.

"Excuse me; I wasn't aware of these rules I'mㅡ."

"Oh, doctor, there you are. I was looking all over the hospital for you," doctor Rodin, the chief of radiology, said.

"Doctor?" Luce exclaimed.

"Ah Luce, thank you for bringing doctor Watkins here. I was afraid he got lost."

"I didn'tㅡ."

"Yes, she was of great help," doctor Watkins interrupted.

The man was whisked away by the head of radiology.

Luce continued her course. No one told her about a new doctor, or did they. Absorbed by her love life, the woman sometimes blanked out information. The next time she saw doctor Watkins, the man was in hospital attire and presented himself to the staff.

"Good morning. I'm doctor Blaze Watkins."

"Blaise, like Blaise Pascal," Luce whispered to her colleague Catherine who heard Blaze.

"It's Blaze, like blazing fire," the doctor said, looking in Luces' direction."

"He has good ears," whispered Catherine.

The women stood at the back. One had to be attentive and close to catch their discussion.

"I'm the terminal illness and HIV/AIDS department's new head."

"Doctor Watkins is from London. He has worked for institutes such as our very own Pastor institute and the WHO HQ in Congo RDC," doctor Rodin added.

The resume was impressive, just like the man himself.

"He's hot," Catherine whispered.

"Ssh."

The doctors' eyes shifted in the women's direction again. Catherine turned away while Luce looked straight ahead. She had nothing to reproach herself.

Dr. Watkins smiled and continued his presentation of the projects he had for the ward and the improvements he hoped to bring to the service.

"Also, I'd like to interview each of you. I need to know what your short, medium and long-term plans are. I wish to know you all better."