I neatly place the few things doctor Madsen has left on the desk, so that they face the place in the comfortable armchair which I can’t look straight at, still feeling silly for my earlier mistake. I hope I won’t develop a leatherarmchairphobia, but it is clearly not impossible. I’m never going to sit on a leather armchair again unless someone holds a gun to my temple… I’m never gonna sit again… My mind goes astray all of a sudden and makes a link with the popular Georges Micheal’s song “Careless whispers”. My inner jukebox immediately puts the record on. “Nooo, I’m never gonna dance again, guilty feeling has got no rhythm… Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a foooooool….” Ok, my brain is going wild… everything is under control again!

It is on a suave saxophone solo that the door opens on my newly favorite silhouette. I imagine doctor Madsen dimming the lights and reaching for my hand to dance holding each other tight in the darkness. But since he doesn’t hear the music in my head, he settles with sitting down in front of me, with a mild grin when he notices the change in places.

He gathers all the paperwork while resuming that all in all, everything looks just fine, and that all that is left is to wait for the lab’s results. I wish he could read me the telephone book… I could stay there forever just listening to him… I am a lost cause! He ends up offering me a medicine supposed to treat hot flashes due to pre-menopause (yeah, right… trying to treat me for a problem YOU induced… evil doctor!! Hehehe) I take the piece of paper scribbled with unreadable hieroglyphs (no doubt, he passed his “doctor’s handwriting 101” class with mention!) telling myself that maybe even the pharmacist will not be able to figure it out.

That’s it, my half hour is about to end, and unless I suddenly suffered an epileptic seizure, or lost consciousness (Faint! Faint! I want to faint, epilepsy is so not sexy!) I will have to say goodbye to Gabriel Madsen and only keep a (delicious) memory of him (Awwww! *Sigh and re-sigh*)

While standing up and walking past him on my way to the door, I realize that I don’t have to hold back all those thoughts that tortured me during thirty long minutes. (Hmmm, if there is a thought-reader in the subway on my way back, he’s going to get his money’s worth!!) And I get tasered in the back! Ok, I might exaggerate a bit here, but Doctor Madsen’s hand gently brushes against my back, guiding me towards the exit and the chills that rush through my spine annihilate any possibility of walking on heels any higher than a quarter of an inch! My left foot, in charge of supporting most of the rest of my body right now, decides to go on strike, and I stumble. I see the corridor wall rushing toward my face, and I already imagine the makeup stamp in the wall that I will leave as a souvenir. Not that I am particularly fond of blush and eye shadow, but with the imminent impact, the wall will surely match my best blueberry makeup remover.

I am praying not to break my nose in bonus to the shame, when a miracle stops my falling by grabbing me by the arms. The hands that grasped me in extremis have no trouble putting me back on my feet.

– Are you ok? Do you feel well?

I feel sincere worry tainting his voice. I confirm that everything is fine, and pretend having hit the door step on my way out. When I was talking about a savior earlier… He is living up to his status.
And I must admit that although he has strong shoulders, I wasn’t expecting that much strenght from him. I am not fat, far from it, but I didn’t think he could have picked me up so naturally. Then again, when you are the savior in title, it must become something usual to catch up damsels in peril.

I hobble a bit, pass by the contortionist’s hole’s door, and finally lean on the reception counter while doctor Madsen returns to his office. I am tempted to ask my favorite secretary how she manages to pull out such a dread funeral attender face when she has the chance to walk by a man like that every day she has the luck to work?!? Tell me about staff motivation!! Forget about sick leaves, holidays… But I hold it back.

It is true that there’s something sad about it all. It must be depressing to see him come and go every day without the faintest hope to get a date. Because, by all means, if she ever had the guts to ask the bewitching doctor out, it evidently didn’t work at all. She must feel like a famished muzzled lioness in a deluxe butchery! Considering that, I prefer to remove my elbows from the counter, just in case. I finalize a few technical details and wave goodbye to Penelope before leaving the clinic sheepishly with my new bag of memories…

I am on my way back to the elevator (Now that I can die in peace, why bother with the stairs…?) when I hear some steps behind me. My imagination is certainly playing with my brain, depicting him following me, trying to catch up to tell me that he couldn’t resist and had to see me again sometime… *Sigh* I turn around to prove to myself that my brain has been pulling my leg when I see him coming my way. He traded his white overall for a dark vest that fits him (OMG is it ever possible??) even better. There you go! A few steps in slow motion, and he meets me on the brink of the elevator, on the intro of Careless Whispers.
I smile, but I implore every god of every religion, all eras together not to look stupid just now. My face had just “un-numbed”, is he coming back to finish me up??

My thoughts are running… He wouldn’t come after me, would he? I am a fairly optimistic person in general, but I am smart enough to recognize that I won’t win both 6/49 and Lotto Max jackpots the same week. (I think I will win one or the other eventually, but I am still waiting…) I call that my luck potential… And if he’s coming to make a declaration, it is clear I will be out of luck for both lotteries this week!

– I’m going down to grab a bite… Mind if I ride along with you?

(Where do you want to go, I’ll call in sick!!)

– Not at all…

And I press on the arrow pointing down, hoping the elevator will take its time, for once.