11 January 2009 @ 02:17 am
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Abby was good with faces, details, so when she saw the man again she recognized him immediatly and was able to place him. He was the possible asthmatic who had come into the ER on Christmas Eve looking for a friend who was having surgery that day. By the way he was now coughing and rubbing at his sternum as if his chest ached, Abby amended her mental diagnosis to an upper respiratory infection, probably bronchitis—maybe even walking pneumonia. The physician shook her head. She kept hoping he’d come back into the ER for treatment himself but…

Someone elbowed her in the back, sharply. Looking over her shoulder to glare at the soccer mom who had three kids in tow, Abby took the two steps forward in the line, inching closer to the counter. God forbid Yuppie Mommy not get her double decaf half-fat no foam latte STAT. Abby cynically hoped the kid behind the counter screwed up the order, whatever it turned out to be, and then she hoped one of the brats spilled it all over what looked like a very expensive sweater set. She stopped just short of wishing surface area burns to the woman’s chest and abdomen—she was a doctor after all. Do no harm, yadda yadda .

Her attention was back on the man, his cup of coffee. Small. Black. He was putting two sugars in it. Then as he used several thin red stirrers to mix his drink, he turned and looked at her. Smiled. He must be good with faces too. Abby raised a hand in a half-wave and returned his smile. Not everyone in New York was unsociable after all.

Abby Lockhart//ER//280
 
 
Current Location: A Starbucks in NYC
Current Mood: annoyed