She sat, staring at the page clasped in her fist. The words cut deep into her heart. The wound wept, like she wished she could. Her throat tightened to deny her release.
The doctor, quarantined from her pain, sat on the other side of a broad desk. Glasses perched on the end of his nose, he carved the likely path of her remaining days.
No longer willing to collude in his conspiracy to undo her, she left. The page, tugged at by the spring air, took flight between the skyscrapers, and disappeared into the blue on creased, white wings.
©Kim Magennis 2016