Untitled (As of now)

Laurence is relieved to see some of the men getting out of their chairs to join him. Ten men are standing with Laurence. All of these men were sitting in rows ahead of Laurence. He sees the ten men immediately jump to their feet, which encourages him not to lose eye contact with Dr. Atad. Surely since these ten men rose, a similar amount should be in most of the other sections. Unfortunately for Laurence, he was seated in row two out of one hundred rows. Many people were behind him and not one of them jumped to their feet.1

“As you can see, sir, by the amount of people standing that most of us are very displeased” confidently comes out of Laurence’s mouth. “We are here to provide care for families, and we will not put our names to a policy like that.” Dr. Atad quickly interrupts the start of his next remark,2

“Mister Rugas, it would be in your best interest to look behind you at this very moment before you say another word.” Of course no one wanted to lose their job. They were willing to cut off a limb if Dr. Atad required it of them. Now without his fellow colleagues behind him, Laurence tries to crack a confident look as if this changes nothing. Trying to move his left foot to regain some balance and posture, he feels an overwhelming heaviness on his forehead. Dr. Lotsip sits beside him and attempts to move his leg to the side, however his very tailored pant makes it quite uncomfortable and he snaps back his foot. Laurence motions to excuse him and leaps across the laps of doctors and very shiny shoe enthusiasts until the colored speckled gray carpeting catches his left foot, allowing him to keep his balance while he ran into the lobby.3

Just outside the door is Mrs. Rugas, the wife of Laurence. Her hair is long and gray, held back with a long gold clip on each side of her head. Laurence nearly brushes against her arm after his abrupt burst out the meeting door.4

“How did it go?” Mrs. Rugas asked, only to be answered by a very pale Mr. Rugas pushing a path through the crowd to the men’s room. “Larry!” she shouts, “please tell me they aren’t going to do it.” She moves quickly to the men’s room door, “Goddammit, Larry. We needed this. Don’t you dare let this slip by now.” She pounds her head against the cold stone brick of the wall outside the restrooms. The sound created is not concerning, especially in a crowd of focused people. Mrs. Rugas was once a part of this crowd, awaiting good news.5

Laurence face is plastered to the blue and yellow tiled floor. The smell of vomit is distant, and he is not sure if he actually became sick, or if it is about to happen. A thump of pressure haunts the air right above his forehead. He is almost able to control its position. It gives him confidence to try and get up. Unfortunately for him, he immediately falls to the ground. His legs are completely useless to him.6