Six Sentence Sunday: Weakened Heart

It's a strange Sunday, this Sunday. Usually I have my excerpt ready and prepared late Saturday, early Sunday, which is super-duper-early. I blame the transatlantic space-time continuum. This weekend I have my mom here in my home office, and because of that my PC has been temporarily moved to the upper floor facilities of the house. I don't know if it is the strange environment or the top floor mountain air but I feel distracted. I never wanted to be one of those "I can't work like this" oddballs, but today I feel like I have Asperger's, so strangely uprooted from myself. Nothing is where it should be, even though it is the same PC, and basically the same molecules sitting in front of it. Anyways, since I am completely without opinions, and everything just seems so incredibly daaaaah, what else I went back to an older excerpt, a short story from the earlier days. You can look up the whole thing on Scribd, it is called Mr. Peker Rue's Soul Shake. Thanks for stopping by! :)

Dr. Cole went back to his desk as Fred buttoned up his shirt - the one his daughter had given him for Christmas, and the only decent garment he had. "Sit down here for a moment, Mr. Peker Rue," the doctor said, pointing towards the chair across from his desk. "Please, doctor, call me Fred." He didn't find himself in a formal mood after his near-death experience earlier today.
Fred took the few exhausting steps towards the desk and slumped into the chair. The doctor's eyes moved steadily across the computer screen. "So, doctor, what do we do about my heart?" It was obvious to Fred, that the pain he had felt all morning and some time during last night must have been caused by his weak collapsing heart; the same flawed heart, that had killed his father and grandfather, both before the age of 70.