It was a bright Friday. My aunt picked me up from school and we rode the subway to the clinic so I could have my medical checkup. We were supposed to visit the doctor a week prior, but my aunt was too idle to do most things on time. She'd only work on things when it's the very last minute. I was glad that I didn't get influenced by her sloth trait.

  We had arrived at the clinic. The environment was as sterile as a health center should be, though it was a little more disorganized than when I last visited that place. I sat down on one of the benches as my aunt spoke with the receptionist. Since there were hardly any patients, we only had to wait ten minutes before we could meet with the doctor. A nurse, clad in her tailored uniform, called out our names. I stood up and followed my aunt to Room 21.

  Room 21 was a clean cubicle, shrouded in white from ceiling to floor. The doctor, whom we refer to as Dr Stafford, was a middle-aged man with dark grey hair and even greyer eyes. From the look you could sense that he was stressed from his job, underpaid and overworked. Nevertheless, he kept an unforced smile on face and was as jovial as any middle-aged worker could be. He instantly recognized me upon my entering the room.

  "Ah, Grace Summers! I haven't seen you in three years. How's school?" he greeted me in a jolly manner. I shook hands with him, noticing his surgical gloves.
  "I'm doing well. Thank you," I greeted back. My aunt and I took a seat.
  "You sent me a text saying that Grace is due for a checkup," said my aunt.
  "Ah, yes. Her appointment's been postponed far too long," said Dr Stafford.

  The nurse whom called our names earlier assisted him in retrieving a set of medical instruments. I sat on the hospital bed and he examined me. He would occasionally jot down notes before he proceeded with the medical checkup. I returned to my seat next to my aunt once the checkup was done.

  "She's in very good health, madam. I've known many children whose health has declined, contrary to her condition. She might as well be healthier than me when I was her age!" he said.
  "That's good news. So, what about her allergies?" my aunt inquired.
  "Her allergies? I can prescribe some small tablets for her to ingest every night before she sleeps. It should help her to get rid of her allergies. If not, it will help her significantly. Just make sure she keeps clean and that she doesn't stay in dusty areas," he said. He wrote down the prescription on a slip of paper before passing it to my aunt.
  "Dr Stafford," I began, "do you happen to know a fellow named Gale Summers?"
  "Gale Summers? He used to be a regular patient of mine. Poor thing, he wasn't a healthy child. He had a weak immune system since birth. But say, I'm glad that you're not like that," he said.
  "I'm actually curious, doctor, about any medical facts concerning Gale Summers. Do you know anything that might interest me?" I asked.
  "Well, he was born with heterochromia. His right eye was blue, but his left eye was brown. He was also born with arrhythmia. He underwent surgery to implant a pacemaker when he was just eleven years old," he told me.
  "Anything else, doc? It can be simple details," I inquired.
  "His blood type is AB negative. Since a young age he had low blood pressure, but it rarely stooped to a severe level. He was also a tall boy for his age. He grows very fast," he told me.
  "Thank you Dr Stafford," my aunt said quickly after he finished his sentence. She snatched my left wrist and dragged me out of Room 21. She then brought me to a corner to 'talk' with me.
  "Why did you bring up Gale?" she interrogated.
  "I was just curious, auntie. I was just curious," I told her.
  "Then you can ask at a different time, Grace. I don't want you to bring up Gale in any conversation," she said sternly.
  "But why?" I asked.
  "It's simply not nice to ask everyone about the same person. Like, do you always have to talk about him? Why not you talk about other people?" she told me. I nodded my head.
  "I understand," I said.
  "Good. Now let's go home and have dinner."

  We trotted back home. Dinner was a large bowl of salad and a pitcher of water shared between two people. I washed the dishes and brought my laundry to the back of the house promptly after I finished eating dinner. Once I was done with that, I was sent to my bedroom. I extracted the files, which Officer Philips gave me, from under the bed and read Gale's profile. There was a very short copy of his medical records. The data was consistent with the one I received from Dr Stafford. I checked the last date that he went to the doctor.

  7 September 2007, at 07:07 p.m.

  I suddenly had a strange feeling. That specific date had seven all over it. I took a glimpse of my digital clock.

07:07 p.m.

  I kept the files and buried myself under the blanket. What did that mean? I shall find out later. I closed my eyes and drifted to deep slumber.