_-Michael-_

*He walked home, rubbing his neck wearily. A long day, complicated surgeries. He longed for silence. But, of course, there was none.

— Does nasal cancer exist? — Her voice sounded from the kitchen.

He silently took off his coat and exhaled.

— It exists.

She perked up, watching him over her cup of tea.

— How?

He looked at her with slight irritation, but answered:

— Tumors can develop in the nasopharynx, more often due to harmful substances...

— And if I sniff your coffee, is it a risk?

He took a sip and nodded slowly:

— Yes, fatal.

She laughed, but did not stop:

— And ears?

— It happens.

— And if you talk non-stop, can you get tongue cancer?

He paused, then chuckled:

— It's surprising you don't have it yet.

She snorted, put her cup on the table, and moved closer.

— Doctor, is it really that hard to talk to your wife?

He rolled his eyes, but inside he felt warmer. Everyone is silent in the hospital, but here - her voice, her laughter, her sarcasm.*