Mrs. Kemph was sitting for the better part of three hours before her husband’s doctor was available for a few words. Even then, the unnamed doctor was short and rushed. Both of his shirts were untucked and wrinkled at the bottom, which wasn’t surprising as it was, after all, a quarter after three in the morning.

Mrs. Kemph had basically dragged her husband into the emergency room after one of the more prolonged coughing fits of the evening. Mr. Kemph never admitted his ailments. It was almost legend around his neighborhood that Superman himself would have to come take the old man out, else he would live forever.

Mr. Kemph had been coughing for weeks, but through the last couple days, the coughing had been lasting longer, and hitting harder. It sounded at first like any ordinary chest infection, but as the days separated into weeks, his cough became much more dry, much to the concern of Mrs. Kemph.

The unnamed doctor spoke quickly.

“He’s got some stuff to take now, I looked him over and gave him a number to call.”

“Did you explain everything to him?” asked Mrs. Kemph.

“Yes. He understands.”

“Is there construction going on downstairs?” Mrs Kemph asked, peering her eyes at the doctor. She knew there couldn’t be, at least not this early.

Mrs. Kemph was a gossip addict. She had to know everything that was happening, and had to tell her girlfriends about any new information she may have ‘stumbled’ upon.

“Not to my knowledge” The doctors eyes swept left, then right.

“What’s all the noise down there? It surely keeps your patients awake…” Mrs. Kemph tried to move closer to the doctor, in a flirtatious attempt to keep him talking. This evidently made the doctor uncomfortable, as he moved away quickly. He looked down at three red file folders and spoke again.

“I can get someone here from Complaints, would that help?”

“That would be…” Mrs. Kemph inhales, “Perfect.”

The doctor withdraws through a yellow pushdoor to a restricted hallway. A page soon after comes over the PA system, asking a working ‘Complaints’ officer to tend to Mrs. Kemph.

Footsteps now, from the same hall. Mrs. Kemph could feel her heartbeat rise. It was almost as though she had completely forgotten her husband’s condition, but it would be another hour or so before he filled out the appropriate insurance information, and besides, she was about to get the scoop of the day from none other then the lead night shift complaint officer.

Maybe it was a cover-up, maybe an attack on a lower floor, maybe, maybe. Mrs. Kemph, now standing, began to mentally pace, back and forth, back and forth.

She was greeted by two very official looking men. Both wearing dark blue suits, young, maybe thirty at max. Both men looked very serious, very official. They ask politely;

“Mrs. Kemph?”

“The one and only…” replies the old, but quick-witted woman.

“Would you mind coming to our office? We need you to file a quick report before you ask us any questions. It’s just a formality. Protocol, really.”

“I just want to..”

“We know, your husbands doctor told us about your concern, but we insist.” Each of the men, now divided, to the left and right of Mrs Kemph, stiffly attach themselves to the underside of her upper arm, motioning her forward.

“HEY! HANDS OFF! LET GO!” Mrs Kemph, now regretting her curiosity, protests as loud as possible, hoping for her husband to hear.

The men, still in a very calm voice.

“Mrs. Kemph, we’ve arranged for your husband to meet with us in the office, you just need to sign a piece of paper.”

“NO! MARTY! MARTY!” The hospital seemed completely vacant. Mrs. Kemph cried out for her husband, for anyone.

Within a blink, nothing. No pain, no shock, no fall, just nothing. No memory, no flash. Nothing.

Mrs. Kemph opens her eyes barely, with no ability to reason. She can not remember how she found her way here, to this increasingly bright yellow room. There are voices of the two men. Her husband in a chair adjacent to her, unconscious. He is not bleeding, but does not look well.

The voices now, louder, but breaking up.

”Are these two the last ones?”

“Yes, but they wa…”

“I know, I know, we’ll make sure…”

”Phone it in?”

”Yeah go ahead, I’ll get rid of them too, it’s my turn.”

A man enters the room. Almost immedieately after his entrance, he jumps to the sound of two sharp crackling sounds. He crooks his head to the right, grins.

“First timer, probably never seen that before.” The man says, talking to himself.

It is from nearby, behind the man. A man is escorted past the door, appearing to be police, but handcuffed, wearing a jacket with bright letters reading CSU on the back. He is visibly upset. Cursing at his captor, insisting release.

The man in the yellow room, now turns to Mrs. Kemph, raises a closed fist to Mr. Kemph’s chin and speaks.

“How’s the cough?”