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Are You Okay?

“Are you okay?” he asked, putting his hand on her arm.

“Why, Doctor?” she replied and searched his face for clues. “Do you know anything? Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it? I knew it. It’s never good when the doctor meets you at the elevator. Was it the bloodwork? No, I bet it was the stool sample, wasn’t it? I can cut down on the red beets. They give me such gas anyway.”

“No, ma’am,” he said, “first of all, eew! Second of all, I’m not a doctor. I don’t even work here. It was just because you tripped.”


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