The Mercy of Birds

CHAPTER 1: PENROSE

I've heard that for the first time.

He shook his head as he glanced at the building again, before refocusing himself. His composed face didn't betray him but he worried the vigilant stare of the guard would pinpoint his giddy hands and feet. "No, it's actually at eleven. I came early."

"Right, the entrance is straight ahead." He motioned with his hand. "Just don't loiter around, it'll make the other guards antsy."

"Sorry, I'll be going." Cameron fought the urge to roll his eyes as he turned away from him, feeling his gaze burning a hole on his back.

He only began to stall again when he inhaled a deep breath as he ascended the set of stairs that guided him inside. The door was made of translucent glass and a security officer that was posted behind it opened the entrance for him to enter. Warm breeze immediately wafted to his face, defrosting the layers of coldness that veiled his skin but not enough to thaw the iciness that had penetrated within.

"Place all objects in your pocket here, please," the guard instructed as he pointed to the basket on the table next to where he was standing. Cameron only had his phone, wallet, and keys to set aside before he silently followed the guard's motion for him to hold his hands up. The metal detector wand that the man clutched at a hand traced his outline and remained mute throughout the whole austere process.

He was released immediately after he was cleared of the inspection and his belongings returned, sauntering to the receptionist desk across the door. The lobby opened up to a vast vestibule where two artery hallways branched away from each other, but he went straight ahead as he glanced at the preoccupied nurse that was posted up front.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked with a voice that fell flat and emotionless. She kept her gaze down, fixed to something under the long table.

"Yes, I'm looking to meet Dr. Singh at eleven," he responded. "Under the name Cameron Crane."

The nurse, who appeared to be by the age forty, looked up at him, her tightly knotted bun creating an impression of intensity and hypercritical quality to her already rigid features.

"Like the composer?" she asked as she raised one of her eyebrows, only now there was a hint of interest in her tone.

He tried to not let out the sigh that was almost a reflex. "Yes, but not while I'm not at work."

Her steely eyes gave him a once over, understanding the implication behind his words that he didn't wish to be recognized as his famous persona right now. She glanced down again for a second as he heard the familiar clack of keyboard being pressed by adept fingers, before she stepped away from her spot. "Follow me, please."

The nurse led him to the hallway on his right and the farther he walked into it, the more unfeeling everything seemed to be. The interior was white and the doors that lined up the walls were gray, it was not overly clinical unlike an ordinary kind of hospital, only more drab and lifeless, but then it also felt draining to be here, as though by staying for too long could slowly make one fade into the dull background, blending their identity, soul, and spirit with the haziness of the monotone.

He was forced into a halt when the nurse stopped before the hallway separated into two again. On the door to their left, a shiny plaque was drilled on an eye-level on the surface, a writing with a name on it: Dr. Raina Singh.

The nurse knocked and waited with him in silence, facing him sideways, and he could see through his peripheral vision that she was observing him. It was safe to say she must have been his devoted listener.

She was about to open her mouth when the door opened to reveal a woman donned in a sterile lab coat, at least the purple colored blouse that she wore underneath added some speck of color into the washed out place.