Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
I tried to focus on an article about corn yields, but the letters swam together on the page.
Dr. Evans came through the heavy wooden door from the back offices, holding a yellow medical chart and a faded blue cotton handkerchief.
The blue cloth was stained with small, dark spots near the hem, and he folded it slowly into his palm as he walked toward my chair.
I recognized the handkerchief immediately, with its pale white stitching along the edge where my father had repaired it with his own hands.
Dr. Evans wore a blue tie that was slightly crooked, and his white coat had a small yellow stain near the left pocket.
“Nicole,” the doctor said, his voice dropping as he stopped in front of me.
“Is he ready to go home?” I asked, looking up at his white coat. “He has the late shift at the school tonight.”
Dr. Evans did not answer right away, instead looking down at the folded blue handkerchief in his hand.
He sat on the green vinyl chair next to me, his heavy leather shoes making a soft squeak on the polished tile floor.
