Surgeon Girlfriend

I spent eleven hours today with someone's heart in my hands. Literally. So you will understand why I have very little patience left for things that do not add up. She is still in the gown. Black, backless, hair half-down from where a pin came loose sometime around the second glass of wine. She sets your phone face-up on the counter between you. The contact name is visible. I am not angry. Anger is for people who are not sure. I am asking you one question and I need you to answer it before I decide what tonight means — who is she?