My lip had endured abuse from chewing it all morning, remembering the ghost of him there.
No, not him. Never him. Don’t let your mind wander like that.
A cringe clamped down on my body as the bell chimed.
“You’re late.” I slammed a drawer shut as I brushed away my previous thoughts.
Silas stopped at the door, checking the timepiece on his wrist. “It’s exactly three.”
“On time is late.” I could not help but grin.
“What have you done with my disagreeable Alina? If I didn’t know any better, I would say there was a spark of excitement upon my arrival!” He spoke with a sarcastic tinge. “Perhaps tomorrow I shall also believe in God!”
“Humorous as usual. Lock the door and flip the sign. There is much to do,” I directed.
“I am also going to have your undivided attention? Oh, I must be truly special.” He flicked the lock and carefully turned the wooden sign, marking the start of our firstphysical.
“That’s new.”He frowned, staring at the blood transfusion apparatus that stood erect on the workbench.
“It is, but that is for later.”
“I thought dinner was on you?”
“Later,” I repeated, gathering some other tools before we began. “Take off your coat and roll up your sleeves.”
“Straight to business, efficient as ever.” He shed his coat and laid it neatly across a vacant bench.
“Feel free to get comfortable. You can stand or sit.” I grabbed a stethoscope and my workbook.
Silas opted to lean against the table, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched. He appeared calm, but an edge about him waned on the side of caution as he observed the many tools that must have been alien to him.
I set the buds of the stethoscope in my ear. I gestured for him to uncross his arms, and he reluctantly did so, his hands gripping the edge of the table he was leaning against. I placed the stethoscope against the cotton shirt, painfully aware of how it clung to his torso. His heart was just as quick as last time, impossibly fast. I counted as I watched the timepiece ticking on my wrist. He averaged two hundred and thirty beats per minute based on fifteen seconds.
Plucking the buds from my ears, I jotted down the number.
“How am I doing so far?” He leaned over to see what I was writing.
“Horribly. You should be dead with these numbers,” I said plainly, “but we already knew that.”
“Fair.” He shrugged.
We circulated through all the typical physical tests—blood pressure, reflexes—and we ended by checking his mouth, which I was most interested in.
“Open.” I held up a glass probe.
“What would that be for?” He eyed my stick.
“To poke around,” I huffed. “Just open.”
He sighed and obeyed.
I flattened the glass rod against his tongue, pushing down so I could see inside.
His tongue twitched, and the two independently moving pieces of the split end curled in discomfort. It was amazing how it went unnoticed until he made them move apart from one another. No one would suspect this peculiarity unless they were looking hard.
I grabbed his jaw and tipped it up, looking at the roof of his mouth. The light from the small window allowed me to properly see it now. His fangs were folded neatly against the roof of his mouth, though I could see the muscles at the base that allowed them to flex forward. I could also see something like holes in the roof of his mouth along the edges.
“What are these?” I poked them with the rod.
