The Fall

Thursday Morning - The Surgery

CLAIRE POV

It had been a lifetime.

My head had not stopped pounding and I swear I could hear things through the walls. Or maybe that was just sensitive hearing because of the headache? I didn't know. It was all too much. It had been all too much for over a week now. After turning into a banshee with Richard and Annabelle and possibly losing my scholarship, I then lost my job over some spilt milk.

"I don't care what they did." My boss - my ex boss - had put to me." Throwing burning milk over their suits and dressing their behaviour down during peak hour is not what I pay your ass for."

I finally had the chance to fulfil a fantasy. A fantasy I had obsessed over for most of the time I had been working in the hospitality industry; Ripping off my apron in one sweeping movement, throwing it in his face and screaming my resignation. The banshee had been in fine form on that day. I followed it up by storming out through the crowd of patrons like Moses parting the red sea.

Most of them followed me out, which only served to reinforce my feeling of righteousness. I was the only barista on staff worth half a damn and they knew it; Everyone else burnt the coffee grounds on orders from the ignoramus that was our boss. Ex Boss. That's what happens when someone buys a cafe because it seems like a cute business venture instead of because they hold a passion for feeding the world. They ruin everything.

The tyrannical voice followed me out the out the door, clashing with the happy tinkle of the doorbell as it bellowed "YEAH, WELL YOU ARE FIRED."

And that was that.

I really didn't know how much more of this I could take.

"Claire Menzies?" Announced a crisp voice over the insufferable buzz of the waiting room radio and half a dozen low voiced conversations. Sally helped me up and supported me along the blue-grey passage with hardwood floors, to the office where we were pointed towards. It boasted gold lettering spelling out 'Dr Avery - Avian Specialist'. Must be some in-joke. Maybe it served to calm nervous children.

"Claire, this place looks like some freaky cross between a surgery and vet clinic." She whispered to me. "What is with the pictures of human and animal anatomy?"

"Hmm? Well I suppose it does. Are you Ms Menzies' kin?" The kind doctor answered absentmindedly.

"Not exactly, but I am her emergency contact. Her kin aren't in the country." Sally squeezed my arm a little tighter. It was meant to be supportive, but it sent shards of glass straight into my bone.

"Would you please take a seat in the waiting room?" Dr Avery's clipped tone was the one that sounded like a question, when it was not. "Examinations are personal. It is clinic policy." A professional, reassuring smile spread across her cheeks, crinkling at the corners of her huge eyes in the way disingenuous expressions are unable to.

The doctor had a warm, cosy feel. Similar to the friendly librarian volunteering full time at the community library. I waved at Sally, signalling that it was ok. She settled me into one of the standard linoleum clinic chairs and gently rested the painful protrusion masquerading as my head on the big wooden desk covered in clear plastic.

On the other side of the room was a procedure table, covered in blue plastic sheeting, all the easier to sanitise when that which should remain inside the body escapes. A long bench with an arsenal of unfamiliar medical equipment bordered the wall beside the table. Sally looked at all of these things long and hard before retreating when I waved her from the room.

"Ok my dear. Tell me what has been happening." Dr Avery was typing at her computer. Each little clack of the keyboard sent a shot of pain through my nervous system by way of traitor ears. I reached out to stop her hands, head still on the desk, and explained the symptoms.