She yawned and said she’d been up late 

She said, “Writing something for fun, I just needed time to think”

She was late 30s, like me 

But a bachelorette (I’m married)

The two of us, colleagues 

She came down from the Eastern Shore

Or up from Carolina 

She simply told me, “Either way, the monotony will blind ya”

We were both settled there on the coast 

That doctor’s office became our post 

And we seldom ever made eye contact 

We sat in that small corner room, back to back 

We spent our days seeing patients 

Sometimes the workload made us both anxious 

Just like hearing about other people’s anxiety 

The two of us never had much time to chat but on occasion I’d ask her to tell me a story

And she would – a case study

She’d ramble off descriptions of patients she’d treated 

Their complaints, their vague ailments, and all the drugs they needed 

I asked her, “You write?”

I tried not to sound too excited in my delight 

She replied, “When the muse descends”

And I wondered what she’d written about last night 

But the busyness of our day ensued 

And we clicked away at our keyboards like two online friends 

She became my muse 

On Friday I brought her a frappucino 

She said, “Starbucks every day is the difference between retirement and working, you know”

She winked 

And I thought it was good to know what she’d think 

One day I came back to the office and she wasn’t at work 

Her desk was covered in ink 

I was told that all her patients were now mine 

So I pulled up the electronic medical records 

Each patient note was a letter 

Individualized, but a recurring theme to get better 

And tucked under my keyboard was a Starbucks gift card 

With a note in her handwriting 

She’d scribbled, “I had to leave because we’re all dying”

“We can still be friends”

“Meet me at Starbucks – retirement isn’t promised”

“When your muse descends”