Morning Gkory
“Good morning, my name is Melinda.” I nodded and returned the greeting, or at least I think I did. I was still kind of bleary-eyed, having hauled my keester out of bed at 5AM on Saturday, made a predawn, five-block walk through the nearly empty streets, so I could get a transthoracic echocardiogram, yet another one of my cardiologist’s recommended tests. What made it even funkier was that, upon my arrival, the facility at Fourth Avenue and Senator Street, a century-old structure that once housed a city welfare department office, was completely empty. There was no security guard in the lobby, no receptionists on the second floor, no other patients sitting in the waiting area—the damn lights weren’t even switched on. I had full run of the place, as I walked up and down the hallways, shouitng “is anybody here?” while the lights in various rooms automatically lit up as I passed by. I heard voices and for a moment I thought I’d found a fellow human, but it turned out to be comin