Greg was irritated. Between the trouble his teenage son had been getting into and the overworking and underpaying job he had got himself, things were definitely not going well. Tricia had threatened divorce twice this month already, and their younger son had developed an unrecognizable malady. He sighed, he had to set his life back on track.

“Say, Roy, why don’t we head to the doctors?” He said. “You’ve been looking off color since you went to visit your sick friend at the hospital.” Hopefully Tricia would appreciate the time he was trying to put into help their sons.

6 year-old Roy nodded, too weak to speak. A day before he had been energetic and active. How? Greg thought, how does one day make so big of a difference?

The hospital was typical; white walled with the strong scent of disinfectants. Greg inwardly groaned. He was the type that avoided places like this.

“Number 23, please” the receptionist called.

23… that was the number on their ticket. Greg stood and shouldered Roy. Another doctor led them to an isolated room and started asking Roy questions, who in turn just nodded or shook his head.

Suddenly, a Justin Beiber song started playing out of nowhere. “Oh,” Greg said, “It’s just my phone.” Greg checked the front, caller ID… 1-354…ugh, it was Jack’s school again. He picked up the call.

“Hello, this is the secretary of Wheaton High school. Is this the father of Jack Close?”

“Yes it is. What has Jack done now?”

The secretary half chuckled. “Jack is only ill. He is being dismissed now.”

Greg sighed with relief. “I see, I’ll just hop on over there then.” He terminated the call. “I’m sorry, but my other son has fallen ill as well. Do you think I could leave? It would only be for a few minutes.”

The doctor nodded. “It should be fine; I’ll be here a bit longer to finish the basic physical check-up.”

Greg nodded and left, pausing only to grab the keys from the bedside table.

Anything stand out as bad? Good?