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I'm just rewriting. You need more narration and action tags: She stood in front of his desk for a full minute before he noticed her. When he looked up at last, his only greeting was a raised eyebr...
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#4: Attribution notice removed
Source: https://writers.stackexchange.com/a/1986 License name: CC BY-SA 3.0 License URL: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/
#3: Attribution notice added
Source: https://writers.stackexchange.com/a/1986 License name: CC BY-SA 3.0 License URL: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/
#2: Initial revision
_I'm just rewriting. You need more narration and action tags:_ She stood in front of his desk for a full minute before he noticed her. When he looked up at last, his only greeting was a raised eyebrow. “Uhm...excuse me, are you Dr. Aide?” "Speak up. You're muttering." She cleared her throat twice. "Are you Dr. Aide?" “Yes.” “My...my name is Luna, I a new nurse here. I'm — I'm going to be your assistant. As of tomorrow." When he didn't respond, she added, "If that's all right?" “I see.” he replied. She looked down at her hands, clutching the folders in front of her like a shield. "Please take a seat," he continued, surprising her. She pulled out the wooden chair, wincing as it scraped on the linoleum, and sat, her arms still wrapped around the case folders. The doctor reached down and opened a desk drawer, producing a bottle of vodka. Her eyes widened as he topped off what she had taken for a water glass. There was a second, empty glass beside it. He motioned the bottle towards her and raised an eyebrow again. _Drinking on the job... what kind of man is this?_ She wet her lips. _He's probably testing me._ "Okay, but... just a little." He filled the glass halfway and pushed it towards her. She took it, proud to see that her hand only shook a little. The vodka was unexpectedly smooth, but she didn't trust herself with more than a sip. Dr. Aide took two healthy slugs. The silence lengthened between them. Luna began to feel desperate, wondering if she was failing the test. "Do you always stay so late, Doctor?" she ventured. His mouth twisted up in a smirk. "I'm here almost 24 hours a day." “You must love your job.” “Not really.” His eyes swept the papers, the antiquated computer, the dusty file cabinets, the hospital-green paint peeling from the cinderblock walls. “Actually, I’ve been thinking of quitting.”