He was moving fast. Almost running.
Then he came through the doorway of the waiting room. And he saw Grandma.
And he stopped dead.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
They just looked at each other. The doctor standing in the doorway, breathing hard. My grandmother sitting in the blue chair by the window with her hands folded on the envelope.
It was the strangest silence I’ve ever been in. It felt like the whole room was holding its breath. Like everything was about to change, and nobody wanted to be the one to move first.
Then the doctor slowly reached up and took off his glasses.
“Mrs. Walker?” he said.
His voice was very quiet.
Grandma nodded.
“Hello, Thomas.”
The doctor’s eyes filled up with tears. He wiped them with the back of his hand.
“Fifty-one years,” he said. “And you haven’t changed a bit.”
