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“Okay,” I say. “Let’s get out.”
Without waiting for Liz’s response, I walk back into the office and touch my forehead.
The ambient noises of the office come back. Liz is sitting in front of me, her arms crossed in anticipation.
There is a hesitant knock on the door.
Liz doesn’t respond. I don’t either.
Slowly, the door opens and Camilla walks in, looking extremely uncertain. I find it fascinating to watch this. On some level, this woman knows that interrupting the doctor with her patient is wrong, despite the rationalization I placed into her mind. However, she’s clearly unable to fight the compulsion.
“Sorry, we’re out of doughnuts,” she says, looking at me. Then she reddens and runs back out of the office.
“That’s very good,” Liz says, putting her hands on the handles of her c
