Zhou Hao filed the last medical record into the third compartment of the drawer, in alphabetical order, from A to Z, with no exceptions. He lowered his head and glanced at the pen on the table. The pen was tilted about fifteen degrees.
He reached out and straightened the pen so that it was at a right angle of 90 degrees to the edge of the table.
Now I feel comfortable.
The wall clock in the clinic pointed to three o'clock in the afternoon, and the sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting shadows on the floor. Zhou Hao picked up the freshly brewed cup of hand-brewed coffee at hand and smelled it. The water temperature was exactly 62 degrees, which was perfect for drinking.
The doorbell rang.
"Is Dr. Zhou here?"
The visitor was a girl in her early twenties, with messy hair and dark circles under her eyes like a panda. She almost tripped over the threshold when she entered. She sat down on the sofa, and her muddy shoes stepped directly on the carpet that Zhou Hao had just wiped yesterday.
Zhou Hao lowered his head and glanced at the carpet.
There are two more shoe prints on the carpet.
He smiled, and that smile was as gentle as the sun in early spring.
"Miss," Zhou Hao's voice was very soft, "could you please take off your shoes? There are slippers at the door."
The girl was stunned for a moment and looked up at him.
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry." She kicked off her shoes in a hurry, and the shoes rolled to the corner, leaving another mud mark.
Zhou Hao's smile did not change.
