Killing Me Softly (#Wattys2016)

FIFTY

FIFTY

Phillip smoothed down the glued-on mustache and adjusted the edge of the wool ski cap covering the tips of his ears. Keegan was waiting for him by the back entrance, his foot stuck between the wall and the door.

"What the hell took you so long? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. And what's with the fake mustache?" Keegan leaned in. "Who are you hiding from?"

"We're not here to talk about me."

Keegan rolled his eyes and opened the door for Phillip. "Fine. Let's go."

The two men scurried down the bright hallway in silence. Keegan unlocked his office door and Phillip took the chair in front of his desk.

"How's she doing?"

Keegan flipped open a metal chart. "Well, she sleeps twenty hours a day."

"That's the idea. You've been giving her the medication?"

"Yes, everyday," Keegan said, exasperated.

"What else? Is she asking questions when she's awake?"

"Yes. I'm telling her what you told me to say."

Phillip leaned back in his chair and smiled. "That's good to hear. I can't thank you enough, doc."

"Please. I don't want your gratitude. I want to know when the hell this will be over with."

"When you need to know, you'll know."

Keegan rubbed his eyes. "Dealing with you gives new meaning to 'The Longest Winter'."

"All right, enough with this chit-chat. I'm ready to see her."

Keegan stared at Phillip for a moment and shook his head. "You know, it's too bad you didn't stay a psychology major."

"Why?"

Keegan slammed the chart closed. "Because you're real good with the mind fuck."