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don’t like that I make the residents nervous. I don’t mean to. It’s just that I take my job seriously. All surgery is serious. All medicine is.
And if you’re a deceased donor, you’re going to live on with this beautiful, insurmountable legacy and someone is going to hear your heart in the chest of someone they love and they’re going to love you, too.
He looks back up at me, and he winks, like he doesn’t realize he’s probably one of the most beautiful people someone has ever seen in real life.
He smiles at me, and it feels real—like his muscles twitched upwards in spite of themselves. Like his brain sent all his neurons firing to tell him that this was a nice, safe, happy moment. That he could relax. I smile back, and that feels real, too.
But I think I might actually wait to watch her a bit longer because she’s not as mean as she thinks—she’s actually quite thoughtful, and she’s actually quite beautiful. Bile in her hair and all.
