By Kapka Nilan
He was a clinical academic or something vague and dual like that. He would have soup for lunch or something that required reheating. He would use the microwave in the staff room and put his bowl in for twenty minutes. Something he had probably learned in medicine. It was a serious but futile attempt at killing the disease bugs brought by the rest of us. Our lunch breaks were half an hour long so most of us had cold lunches. Word spread around the division that he had some kind of cancer but would live. We all continued to look unhappy for different reasons.
Kapka Nilan (she, her) writes fiction in her second language. Her work has appeared in online literary journals and in print, including Thorn & Bloom Magazine, Fiction Attic Press, Six Sentences, Osmosis, Flash Fiction Magazine, and elsewhere, and most recently has been shortlisted for Bath Flash Fiction Award Anthology. Published fiction can be read at www.kapkanilan.wordpress.com.
MoonPark Review 