pretend you're awake » phan

31

dr. york is probably around forty and has bright ginger hair despite his age.

"hello, mr. lester!" he says, his tone airy. phil detects a hint of falseness and is slightly annoyed at how peppy he is. someone in this line of work shouldn't be so exuberant. "how are you today?" he continues.

phil almost retorts with something like oh, i'm wonderful, i just came here for fun, but he resists the urge and responds truthfully. "not so great as of the last few weeks."

"would you mind giving me a more detailed description?" dr. york says, pulling out a pencil and poising it above his clipboard.

"well, i feel run-down a lot and i get these awful headaches about twice a week. and... well, i've been pretty depressed for about the last month."

dr. york nods and writes a few notes, the scratching filling the small room, nearly suffocating.

"i see. do you have a history of poor mental health as an individual or in your family?"

"no, not that i'm aware of. i know of one great-uncle or something who's bipolar, but that's it."

the doctor nods and glances up at him. "have you had colds recently? any rashes?"

"yes to the first question. i've felt a bit run-down for the past few months, but no rashes." more scratching from his pencil.

"i'd like to do some tests," the doctor concludes. "results should come in about a week from today."

"okay," phil says, feeling a pressure settle on his chest. it feels like he's being dragged down, as if the earth's gravity is somehow more strong.

he's scared. terrified, even.