My pretty physiotherapist

On my visit to the hospital again, I went to find my pretty physiotherapist. I was lucky enough to bang into her when she was about to leave. From far, she waved and I was glad she still remembered me.

She was with her colleague and I asked her for her contact number. This was the moment my mood dampened. She refused to give me my confidence. I didn’t expect this at all since we used to be chatting nicely during the medical appointments.

It probed me to analyse more deeply over matters. I started to wonder how much I worth to others.

To me, I might treat someone as a good friend, but does he or she thinks and does likewise? I may not show, I may not sound nice, but I really care.

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