TRIGGER WARNING: Body horror

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Dr. John Mellon smiled from behind his imitation wood desk, his pale pink tie and gleaming buttons matching the waiting room atmosphere.

“It’s been a while, Denzil.”

“Three months exactly,” he answered, cleaning out his eyes. That flaky crunchy stuff had been showing up more often lately. Maybe he could ask his real doctor about it sometime, but until… He faced the man and finished his explanation. “Same as last time and all the times before it.”

“And how has it been?” Denzil looked away from the good doctor to the potted plant across the room. The soil might as well’ve been brown dust, but the plant was green as radiation and screaming comfort from beside a stack of glossies on parenting. It persevered for the Greater Good.

Denzil shrugged.

John’s leather ergonomic chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Remember the importance of communication, Denzil. Do I need to remind you how your last team disbanded?”

He started at the doctor and blinked once slowly. Raising his left hand as the bone extended from his pointer finger, Denzil answered.

“Bone is stronger than eye tissue, John.”

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[Copyrighted © July 2 2015, J.M. Blute]