The Waiting Room Woman

Greg glanced up as the white door announced another worried friend of a patient. The woman sat down in a chair opposite him, and tearfully put her head in her hands.

Greg shifted uncomfortably and examined the dorky-patterned carpet very carefully. Finally, the woman looked up, as if noticing for the first time that he had been there.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, soft brown hair hanging down in her dark eyes. “It’s just that—my mom…she’s got really bad asthma, and she had another attack today, and we don’t know what to do, and the doctors are…” She sniffed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m rambling.”

Greg looked at the sobbing woman and put his hands on his knees. “No, it’s fine. Really.” Somehow it was, with this complete stranger unloading all her baggage on him.

She sighed and composed herself, sinking into the cold faux leather seat backing. “My friend…” Greg didn’t know why, but her had to share with this person.

Just then, a nurse came in. “Greg, follow me.”

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