Sitting in a medical centre watchful room, Dennis watched as a coughing child built blocks. Had a receptionist a cower in her voice when she’d set adult a appointment? “A amiable infection during worst,” his wife, Rosie, had pronounced dismissively. Mild?
A pleasing lady in all other ways, Rosie had never sympathised during his illnesses, automatically querying a astringency of his symptoms. This time, as usual, he’d felt awful – but, again, zero though eye-rolls from her. Minutes after a alloy addressed him. “Dennis, I’m fearful we have really bad news …” His initial suspicion was how most he’d suffer revelation Rosie.