Based on an in-class prompt that I think was said to be from Writers' Digest.
"You don't know me, but be aware: everything you've been told is a lie." That's all the "no subject" email said. The sender's name was random text.
Huh. "Everything I've been told." I thought about what, exactly, I'd been told recently. Something then struck me. I picked up the phone on my desk and dialed the local hospital - better safe than sorry.
"Englewood Hospital, can I help you?" a woman answered.
"Yes, my name is Dalton Cheatham. Could I speak with Dr. Minikes?"
"Let me check for you." I was put on hold. My heart started to race, noticeably. Soon enough: "I'm sorry, Dr. Minikes is busy right now. Can I take a message?"
I sighed. "I'm just wondering about how my wife is doing."
"Oh," the woman replied. "I'll note your number, Mr. Cheatham. Sorry, but there are other calls to take. Have a nice day." Before I could reply "okay, thank you," she'd hung up.
Of course it was possible that the doctor really was busy. It was possible that the email I read was either completely unrelated or spam. But I had to be sure; I wasn't going to take any chances when my wife was in the hospital. I got up from my desk chair, and made my way through my house to my car. I started the noisy engine, and pressed the "play" button on the steering wheel; intense death metal, courtesy of my USB-connected iPod, ensued. Paying more attention to my own worries than whether any cars were coming, I reversed into the road, and started speeding down the road, towards the hospital downtown.
