Thomas sat patiently at the clinic.
Not an ordinary one by any means either. He’d seen many come in, with shattered bodies and apparent histories laced in trauma. The kind that makes a layer of skin scrawl or a frayed nerve recoil from the slightest sound. This clinic had seen the worst effects of humanity and yet these battered people left as totally renewed individuals. Were they miracles? That’s what he longed for. Something to make him whole again.
“The doctor is ready to see you now, Mr. Fog,” said the secretary.
What felt like days in the lobby came to a close. Soon he would get what his heart felt was a fingertip away.
“Room 214, Mr. Fog,” directed the secretary.
He took a seat and glanced toward an open window. It was odd to him, but the air that flowed was uncanny – a far cry from the polluted waves back home. Just a few feet from him stood a patient’s bed that had a leather interior and looked soft.
I think I’ll sit there, he thought.
He waited another 3 minutes, checking the time on the watch his beloved mother gave him. Then a stark noise from the wooden door gained his attention.
“Mr. Fog? Hi, I’m Dr. Rivers. Now what brings you here today?” he said.
Thomas buckled. This was his last chance. A chance to fulfill a promise that life was supposed to guarantee for all. A chance to revive what he needed inside of him the most.
“Doc!” he said nervously, “I am here for a soul.”