Chemotherapy

~Daciana~

“The test results have arrived.” I heard Anne’s voice in front of my room. I hastily got out of bed and rushed to the door. Opening it, I found an envelope in her hand, and next to her was Trump in his wheelchair.

“The result is here. Where is Randall?” She asked.

“He’s not home right now,” I responded, and she gave the envelope to me.

“You should check that too. You can show him when he comes back. I wasn’t lying.” She uttered sadly with gritted teeth.

“I never said you were. Why would anyone think that?”

“Well, your husband thought that. At least, this will clear his doubts about me.”

I breathed out deeply and opened the envelope. I scanned through and realized she wasn’t telling a lie. I clenched my jaws and looked at her.

“I’m so sorry, Anne,” I uttered, neatly folding back the paper. “You don’t have to apologize. Karma is a bitch, isn’t she?” She chuckled painfully, and I felt sad for her.

Even though she had done evil, dying of cancer isn’t something I would wi