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Weekly Contest #62
I peered into my patient’s tired eyes, flicking a penlight from one to the other. As I’d suspected, they appeared wild, pupils blown. I was searching for signs of a Relapse, which would signal the end of Patient 511’s stint in our society. “Patient 511,” I started. He sat completely still. I subtly pushed the button beneath my desk. “You have Relapsed." The clinic doors swooshed opened, and two orderlies entered. They walked purposely, approaching 511 where he sat. A moment later, each towering man placed a hand on 511’s sagging shoulder...
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