+TYPED OUT-

+WAITING/BAITING-

Monday came off exacting behind the hotel bedroom door.

At that moment Kenneth was in the let's-see-how-it-goes, shall-we stance, and Monday took him aback with her abrupt reaction.

The man sat up sleepless, wondering what she was doing and if she had the slightest thought in his respect. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and scrolled.

How would she react if he called?

No, he couldn't do that. He imagined how the woman would verbally run him down. He needed a more discreet gesture that would imply his intent.

Thus, the man took it to Twitter. All he needed to do was show Monday he didn't scrap her.

Monday's last post was: When your needs don't meet your expectations and your expectations aren't your needs. She followed the tweet up with a Gif of a black woman waving something off and saying whatever.

Kenneth clicked on the thumbs up. He liked the other two posts before as well.

There you go, thought the man, Monday was sure to see who liked the post. The man laid back, reassured before realizing the account he used was his blue-badged official and that all his followers would get the infamous Kenneth Mosely liked this post prompt. The man went back on her profile and unliked the Tweets.

Kenneth Mosely was a brand, and though there would be no consequences. Kenneth thought of how people would interpret seeing him liking a random quote, a photo with a Violet syrup, vanilla and tapioca bubble tea with hashtag fuel, and the gif of Jim Carey typing like a maniac with the caption writing in progress. The man let himself submerged by classist and elitist ponderings.

No, he could not be associated with a tuna sandwich writer. Monday understood that when she saw her Tweets get plus one before being minused by the orator.

What is wrong with this man? Monday thought.

Kenneth was an idiot. Why was she wasting thoughts on him?

In the meantime, Luce checked drips, gave medication, changed pouches, and lifted headrests. Lunchtime came as salvation.

"Oh, thank goodness, I'm starving," she announced as she posed her tray.

"Tell me about it. I had to drink a Red Bull to help me wake up," Catherine said.

Luce shook her head, "Catherine, don't fall into the taurine aid trap."

"My body isn't used to these long pauses. I wonder where Doctor Watkins is going with this."

"Oh, look, speak of the devil," Luce said as the doctor came and sat down with a colleague. Of course, he had to be the one sitting in parallel and to have a clear view of Luce.

"Too bad Melody isn't here," Catherine added.

"Thank goodness, I can't handle her fangirling over him anymore," Luce said.

"You should see her during rotas. She's all doctor Watkins this, doctor Watkins that, while battering lashes," Catherine said with a coy voice while mimicking their colleague.

"The man is a teeny-weeny bit interesting. A woman shouldn't fawn over him like that. I mean, he just has one dimple," Luce said, looking at the doctor's table direction only to find the man's eyes fixing her. He smiled as though he heard.

"Look at him. You'd think he has supersonic ears or something. He's acting as though he heard."

"Oh, Luce, I know your fetish. The impaired dimple has got you hasn't it."

"No, he's attractive in the standard looks catalog, but he's not my type. I'll leave the youngsters to it."

Catherine turned back to take a glimpse at the man, "I don't know. He looks like the type of guy to like mature women. Do you see him with twenty-four-year-old Melody Munos?"

"Well, I doubt thirty-seven-year-old me fits the bill either. Men like the young and flexible, who do remakes of celebrity sex tapes in bed. Not a woman reminding them she has her biological clock going ding-dong."

Doctor Watkins coughed and banged a hand on his chest. Luce watched how he gulped down his glass of water and turned his head away to listen to his colleague.

There was something particular about the man, and Luce wanted to check if her hunch was correct.

She waited for the man to return his gaze to her to say, "I hope he has something more to offer in bed with his knowledge of the human anatomy."

The man's dimple sucked right in at the instant Luce finished her sentence.

From then on, Luce made sure never to face him when she spoke. She didn't know how he did it, but she was sure doctor Watkins heard what she said. And doctor Watkins didn't wait to get an explanation from the nurse who avoided him like one does cholera.

The elevator was the spot where he finally could speak to her.

"Are you avoiding me, nurse Olowe?"

"No, doctor."

"Then why do I get the impression you walk in the opposite direction when you see me andㅡ."

"I feel spied on, and I think you're not playing fair," Luce replied while staring at her clogs.

The doctor frowned.

Luce tried to clarify her statement, "there have been a lot of changes, and when I ask everyone, some ideas came from private discussions. Somehow everything became a reality as if someone heard."

"Alright, you, win. I read on lips."

"What? Why," Luce slid her head back and gave the doctor a side glance.

The doctor brought a hand to his ear and took out what looked like an ear pod, but Luce had enough patients suffering from hearing loss to know what it was.

"You can't hear," she exclaimed.

The elevator door opened, and people climbed in, but Luce's eyes remained on the doctor who replaced the earpiece and looked right ahead of him till the door opened on his floor. Luce would have followed if Melody didn't wait for the doctor welcome committee style.

She had to wait until the end of her shift to cross the doctor in the parking lot to pursue the conversation.

"So you read everything everyone says?"

"Yes."

"And you don't hear a thing otherwise?"

"No, I'm not totally deaf. I learned to lip-read and sign in case I lose all my hearing capacity."

"I'm sorry you have this condition, but it doesn't give you the right to eavesdrop on what everyone is saying. Some things said are meant to stay private," Luce said.

"I know, my apologies," dr. Watkins said while he tapped on the top of his motorcycle helmet.

Luce nodded and began to walk away.

"Nurse Olowe, my knowledge of the human anatomy does come on handy."

"Private, I said," Luce replied while hurrying her steps to her car without looking back at the man.