"hi, i’m one of the Dr.s here, my name is Matthew." he had glided so gracefully into my cubical that i barely noticed where he begun and ended until he smoothly slid into the chair that he had pulled closely to my bed. i gave him a small smile, more with my eyes than my mouth; i was taken aback by how softly handsome this man was. he was no outrageous heartthrob, but he did in fact cause my heart to flutter.
a couple seconds had passed and he was still smiling down at me, “….and i may call you??” i remember blushing slightly and apologising, “i’m camille”. “lovely to meet you camille, now what seems to be the issue?”
the young Dr. seemed a little timid, yet he spoke so reassuringly that i felt as though he could cure me simply with his silvery voice. his smile was almost as gentle as his touch and as he talked i found myself drinking in his every feature. his was by no means perfect, yet all of his imperfections blended together to make one lovely male specimen. he had a red patch on the side of his face and i wondered if it flared up when he was flustered, or if it were always red. if he were flustered now this meant he was also a great actor for his demeanour was so calm (it was only upon his assessment that i realised he was a little timid). i enjoyed surveying him, and i liked the little red patches on his face, i don’t know why but it made him all the more handsome, adding another dimension to his features. on a second note, i feel as though handsome is too strong a word; don’t mistake me, he is good looking, but softer, more subtle and modest.
"if you don’t mind, i will just assess your abdomen now."
i pulled up the hem of my hospital gown and gathered it under my bust, making sure that the blanket covered over my knickers, leaving enough of my abdomen exposed for the Dr. to assess. he rubbed his hands together quickly, a sweet attempt to not shock my warm stomach. i doubt that he needed to however, i could tell that his hands were already warm as he pressed into my skin; slightly clammy, my imagination ran away with me and secretly hoped that he was slightly nervous to examine me. his examination was so gentle that i wondered whether he was getting the information he needed. of course he was, he was simply being kind, trying to cause me little pain as possible as he did so.
now here i sit, a night later, at home in front of my computer, writing about a man whom i only saw for two hours. undoubtedly, he has forgotten about me already, and yet here i sit thinking about his gentle smile and how as the consultant spoke to me he leaned so gingerly against the wall drinking in every word the elder Dr. spoke, looking at me every now and then. i wonder what he thought during those looks: was he looking to see if i was listening? to see if i was okay? to study me in which the way i had studied him? or were they simply courteous glances you give to show that you are invested in the current conversation. most likely it is the latter, but a girl can dream. after all, what else are you to do when you are sick, other than fantasise about cute Dr.s. ah, that is the word to describe him, he was the perfect mix of cute and handsome; so imperfect that it all blurred into a man who made me giddier than i already was.