A Surgery Ritual

I ate a wonderful meal in a family-style restaurant before Ritual Check-in. Six feet distant in the booth next to mine, a couple my age, maybe older, finished their lunch, chatting and laughing, with eyes that adored the other. I paid my check, left a 20% tip, fitted my mask, and returned to my car. Less than a mile, the Ritual Site presented as a big block building. I locked my car and entered.

An elevator carried me upward; an exhale of preparation. I pulled the steel and glass front door towards me with my biceps forward and, inhaling an elevator descent, stepped inside. A Ritual Assistant walked…