The doctor's office had every seat filled. It was flu season, but it was mating season. Tails the fox walked with pneumonia. If you ever had the pleasure of walking pneumonia you would realize that it feels fine. Sure, you have the cough laced with bramble bushes and the weakness of breath where you can wheeze quite loudly. Tails had sat down and let loose a long wheeze of his own that sounded like a whining, dying animal of some sort.

This is about how the flying squirrel took the wheezing. The thing was that Ray, they called him Ray even though his damn name was Raymond, was a borderline hypochondriac. This means that you feel agnostic about feeling sick. It is not the worst thing in the world, but Ray was debating that he had narcolepsy. He was prepared to take a sleep test to see if everything was ship-shape.

Ray moved a little bit to the left of his seat. Tails noticed immediately, but did not scoff.

"Yeah sorry Raymond. Not trying to get anybody sick, but there is nowhere else to sit."

"Please don't call me Raymond," The squirrel spoke calmly, almost childlike.

"Isn't that your real name?"

Ray pretended to notice something across the room. It was typical. Ray was so used to not staring at people that he stared at everything else.

"I always feel like I'm in trouble when people call me Raymond."

"You done anything lately? Any flicks..." Tails coughed his last words. Almost choking on the ability to converse.

"They used my picture in that anniversary special you did. Sonic Generations."

Tails grimaced. He knew how tough things were. Getting a job felt impossible. Especially when everyone could do what you do. Even the luck of a job interview only meant answering a bunch of questions like everybody else. If your smile was big enough, if your voice had the pleasantry of a fruit basket, if your style of dress screamed professionalism; that is what landed you a job. The résumé gets the door open, but the persona has to be sold.

"I'm sorry to hear that Ra-" Tails coughed again. The phlegm could have filled up a sink, but he swallowed it out of kindness.

Ray sometimes did not feel like being kind.

"Please do not say you're sorry. I'm tired of people saying sorry all the time."

Tails waited a second. Ray took the nerve to look back at him. The squirrel quickly dashed his eyes down to his lap. Tails felt unsure if this was the end of the conversation, but again, in the sense of kindness, he felt like prodding a bit.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm tired."

"Not just of people saying they're sorry?"

Ray smiled. Tails returned the smile. Ray did not notice the smile because eye contact.

"I think I have narcolepsy."

"You fall asleep randomly?"

"No. It's bigger than that. I feel tired all the time despite getting 8 hours every night. I read an article where it said I might have it."

"You want to pay the co-pay just because of an article you read?" Tails knew this felt invading, but felt curious enough to know the answer.

"I like to know things. I'm tired. I want to know why I am tired. I mean, that's crazy right? To think one of my physiological processes feels broken?" The squirrel spoke with a tiny height of urgency. It wasn't rude, but it was declarative.

"No. I just think if it feels that bad you should..." The fox coughed again. "See a specialist first."

"I need a referral. My PPO is weird."

"Insurance is a racket am I right?"

Ray looked up and gave Tails appropriate eye contact. It felt alarming to the squirrel. He was not sure if his facial expression was saying anything. They say that eyes are the windows to the soul, but Ray always felt soulless. He could not bear to look at almost anyone unless alcohol was involved. Ray was afraid of actualizing people. He liked to focus on himself. However, he continued to look at Tails, and Tails was not breaking character. What had started as a nonverbal reply about insurance companies had now turned into a impromptu staring contest.

"Raymond...Squirrel?"

A male nurse practitioner had now called out the squirrel's name.

The squirrel stood up from his seat still locked into a stare with Tails. It had been only been about 28 seconds of actual staring at this point, but it had felt monumental, to Ray not Tails, in some form.

Tails was a tad confused by the drama, but he had been around dramatic people his whole life. He played the straight man against the countless waves of comic relief around him. Sort of like some kind of vulpine lighthouse. That said, normal behavior really only depended on the context and how you felt. Tails too felt tired and wondered how long it would take the antibiotics to kick in once he got them later that day.

"Raymond Squirrel to the front please!"

The man yelled again throughout the doctor's office. Every patient was weirdly looking up now. Maybe it was because Ray was not there and they would jump up in line.

Ray broke the eye contact and waved at the nurse with his gloved hand. He began to walk away in haste accidentally hitting Tails with the fluff of his tail.

"Hey Ray, it was good seeing you man."

Ray spun around almost like a dancer. He had a nervous look. The kind you get when you realize you left the coffee pot on all day or left the garage door open.

"I really hope you didn't get me sick."

And with that, Ray went to the front, followed the nurse in, and the door closed.