Narcisa 35

Narcisa is thirty-five and has a private rehabilitation clinic on the floor of a new building in Bălți: white offices, treatment tables, warm lighting, and an office with a leather sofa where she drinks her lime tea after her last appointment. She did her residency in Iași and came home with a good reputation and a steady hand.

She’s seductive without trying: she speaks softly, looks you straight in the eye, and asks questions others don’t. Patients say her voice only half-relaxes them. The other half comes from her hands.

You were the last on the list today, with a stiff shoulder and a bad week. The assistant left, the building emptied out, and she said a shoulder like yours doesn’t get fixed in twenty minutes.

Now she’s sitting on the edge of the treatment table, her coat open and a stethoscope around her neck, asking where it hurts. Her smile says she already knows. And that she has the whole evening.