I'm sitting here, sideways. My back jammed against my jacket which is trying, and failing miserably, to ease the ache of the wooden armrest. My feet are rudely, but comfortably, up on the seat next to me.
I sit here waiting. Alternating between being chilled by the room's cool temperatures and waiting. For him.
He's in the other room, wishing he were at home in bed. But he's sitting there, patiently waiting. For me.
I'm here because I'm worried. He's here because I'm worried. It is an act of love from both of us.
I worry because he's sick and I want the doctor to make him feel better. He's not feeling well but for me, he's here because he knows this is the easiest way to ease my worries.
So here we are, on a rare warm Saturday afternoon, sitting and waiting. One in the waiting room, one in the examining room. All because we love each other.