Chapter One: Dr. Aaron Williams
Monday.
February.
The waiting room is full.
Coughing. Sniffling. Someone fanning themselves with a church program.
Flu season has settled in.
Mya Jacobs is back again.
Sixty-two.
Retired school administrator.
Still running committees. Still organizing rides. Still showing up.
She eases into the chair.
“I’m just tired, Doc,” she says.
“And a little short of breath.”
“You walked from the bus again?” he asks.
She smiles. “You know I did.”
He listens to her lungs.
Checks her vitals.
Mild swelling. Nothing dramatic.
“I need you to slow down a bit,” he tells her.
“There’s a lot going around right now. Your body’s been fighting more than you think.”
She nods.
“Drink your water. Rest. Let your system recover. You don’t have to carry everybody this month.”
She laughs. “Somebody has to.”
“Not today,” he says. “Let somebody else.”
He orders routine blood work.
Basic labs. Nothing urgent.
Her father died at seventy-four.
“Heart trouble,” the family always said.
He notes it in the chart.
She thanks him, wraps her scarf tight, and heads back into the cold.
The day keeps moving.
Refills. Physicals. Follow-ups.
That night, reviewing cases,
Mya Jacobs stays on his mind.
Not because he found something obvious.
Just because something about it does not settle.
He closes the laptop.
The question does not close with it.




















































































