The Doctor's Last Question

The appointment was for ten past nine, and at twenty past nine Bettina was still in the waiting room. She had been there before, twice, for the same thing, and both times the answer had been the same.

The doctor listened to her back and asked her to breathe in. He looked at the paper from the last visit. "Nothing has changed," he said. "Your lungs are clear. The cough is dry."

He wrote something down and gave her a paper for the chemist. Bettina took her coat and thanked him. The appointment had lasted eleven minutes.

At the door he asked one more question, without looking up. "How long have you had the new flat?"

Bettina stopped. "Since March," she said. "Why?" The doctor put his pen down. "Because you have had the cough since March," he said. "And I have been asking you about your lungs for three visits."

They talked for another ten minutes, about the flat, the heating and the wall behind the bed. Bettina left without the paper for the chemist and with the address of a different office.