Story 36 of 100
The Allergist.
I hung up on her twice before my better angels got the better of me.
To say that I suffer every day would be an understatement. I am in agony. My life is full of misery and torture. And yet this is the life I have chosen.
Let me start from the beginning. My name is Agnes Short and I am a nurse. I work in a doctor’s office, an allergist’s office to be more precise. People come here, and everyone is always sneezing or coughing, with running eyes and noses. And me? I happen to have just a touch of hypochondria. I don’t actually call it that. I call it being super sensitive, but I’ve heard other people call me a hypochondriac, and honestly, it’s hard to disagree with them. I am terrified of germs, to a very unreasonable degree, and every day I rub shoulders (literally) with supremely germy people.
Why do I do this, why do I put myself through this misery? There are some excellent reasons I tell myself to get through each day. For one thing, Dr. Vidalia is beautiful. I don’t throw this word around easily, especially around men, but if you’d ever see him, you’d understand. He has curly brown hair, and when he runs his hand through his hair in this absent-minded way of his, the curls wind up framing his face, he is beautiful. He has dark green eyes, and when he smiles, they crinkle in the corners, ever so adorably. He has…
