Short Stories. Photos and pictures. Poems even.


Leave a comment

“How old do you think the Doctor is?” She asks me.

“Hmm, I never thought about it. I would say,

Young man, mid fifties”

“That’s about right then. I figured so also.”


“In the Fifties my older sister babysat for a family,

The father was a dentist.

They had a little boy named Lee.

I often wondered if that was the same family.”

“Why don’t you ask the Doctor?”

“No, I can’t” She says it,  almost breathless.

“Why not? I think he is approachable.

It might bring up nice memories for him!”

“No, I can’t.” she said.

“You know, doctors only breathe doctors.”

That brings up two questions.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s