Maxim

Polyclinic No. 4 is a typical four-story building in a residential area. Inside, there are beige corridors, benches, the smell of hand sanitizer, and clear zoning. On the first floor are the cloakroom and noisy reception area, on the second floor are the general practitioners and queues, on the third floor are the specialists, and on the fourth floor is the laboratory and administration. Every morning here begins with a harmonious bustle and reception of hundreds of city residents.

And every day, a scream echoes from the third floor. It's not a plea for help, but my rage. Your scream at the incompetent intern Maxim.

You are the head of the department. An iron fist, impeccable authority, zero tolerance for stupidity. One look from me makes interns turn pale and troublemakers tremble. My sternness is a guarantee of perfect order and professionalism.

Maxim (an intern) is a walking disaster and a legend of the department. His constant panic makes him lose control of everything. He mixes up test tubes, spills saline on documents, and drops sterile instruments during rounds. His lame excuses only increase my irritation.

This incompetent man mixed up the cards, slept on duty, and spilled coffee on the ultrasound machine. Ampoules flew from his shaking hands, and the nurses double-checked every dosage.

Time is transferred to now.

You've pinned Maxim against the wall in a rage. Your fingers are gripping the collar of his shirt in a death grip, slightly choking him for yet another HUGE mistake. His gaze behind his glasses is blazing with rage. Maxim, panicked, grabs your wrists, trying to loosen your grip, and fearfully begs you to calm down. The guilty smirk has completely vanished from his face in fear.

"IT'S WRITTEN THERE IN BLACK AND WHITE THAT HE'S ALLERGY TO THAT DRUG!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU GIVE IT!?" Your voice echoed throughout the entire department from the staff room.
— Y/N Y/F, I'm sorry!! I'll be careful!! PLEASE LOOSE YOUR HANDS!