Doctor Kich was a doctor. A physician by profession, he attended to patients who weren't well, but were well off.

"I am leaving early today, M," he said cheerfully to M. "Set my O-O-O to say so and have some fun."

M smiled wryly ."Leaving early because you are not feeling well, doctor?" She said and proceeded to straightened her uniform. Out-Of-Office yet again, she mumbled to herself.

"Ha! I am a doctor. I can't afford to leave office early with a triple-O like that," Doctor Kich said and leaned towards M. M was a thirty-something nurse who knew a pathogen when she saw one. She playfully lifted a syringe, drew some sinister looking liquid from a vial and attempted to spray it on Doctor Kich. Doctor Kich swung away and evaded it.

A button on Doctor Kich's shirt that had until then fought an uphill battle against his bulging tummy gave up and popped off. It sprang forth, hitting M on her forehead.

"Ouch! You have the heart to hurt me, Kich?" M feigned anger, although she knew neither the doctor nor the button could hurt her. Her hands were firmly in control of both.

"Ninjas don't fight using buttons. We use scalpels," Doctor Kich said. "And as for your biological weapon, reserve it for the one that's coming in," he said.

"One that's coming in?" M furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yes. I have a hunch. And the last thing you want to do as a rational doctor is to ignore it. By the way, today is my wedding anniversary. That's why I am leaving early," Doctor Kich said. He successfully picked up the button off the floor after putting in significant effort to kneel down and then bend down, making sure his trouser doesn't come apart at the seams all along. He tossed the button high in the air, caught it with his shirt's pocket and reminded himself to stitch the button while waiting at the traffic signal. The last thing he wanted was to go home to his wife with his shirt lacking a button so close to the belly. A stitch in time saves nine, he reminded himself of the relevant proverb that his teacher had taught him.

"Ah! Swagger-boy. I may have missed this time, but you won't get away every time," M taunted Kich and tried to spray the remnants of the syringe on him. Kich wheeled and evaded the advancing column of antibiotic drizzle deftly once again.

"Not today though. Like I said, reserve it for the incoming. One day for home and the rest of them, for you my dear M," he winked at M and left. The last thing you want is to go home dishevelled and smelling of pain-killer on your wedding day.