Dissecting a Frog

Michael Kim’s head was shaved except for two bleached orange bangs that hung in his eyes. “Die, pericardium,” Michael Kim said, hacking through a snotty-yellow membrane. I opened and closed my mouth, then checked off “Pericardium” on our chart. “Die, ventricle,” said Michael Kim. I said, “Um.” Michael Kim turned. His bangs were strangely feminine compared to his leather jacket and toughguy glare. “Wanna buy some Ritilin?” he asked. I gave him $20, which he pocketed before returning to the frog. “Die, Eustacian tubes,” he said, jamming his finger into the gummy throat. I made another check on the form.