When Royal arrived at Dr. Jamestown’s office, he was amazed by how outdated everything was. The beige wallpaper was yellowing, the green curtains were dusty and looked as if they’d been up for years, and all the chairs were mismatched. Not one had a twin.
Even the reading materials on the rickety end tables were old. Some dating as far back as 1975. The wrinkled faced receptionist that gruffly greeted Royal looked like that might have been the year she started working here. She definitely looked ready for retirement. Even if she wasn’t, she certainly needed to resign for her foul attitude alone.
How could such an esteemed physician get caught up in a time warp like this? Much less let the wicked witch of the east anywhere near an expectant mother? Royal mused, about to get all of his questions answered soon enough.
“Dr. Jamestown will see you now,” the receptionist gruffed out, before switching lines and returning to her personal phone call.
Where is Dorothy’s farmhouse when you need it, Royal mused, rising to his feet.
© 2008 by Suprina Frazier