March 31 US in deadly hospital germ probe

St Malcolms Hospice for the Lame and Needy was only twenty minutes by car which meant I could grab a bite to eat on the way, although I wish now this had come from a real shop. I remember sitting in the lobby waiting to be called in, trying hard to swallow the last chunk of donut that had become awkwardly lodged in my throat, this was my 14th interview and coughing up part masticated pastry product was unlikely to ensure it would be my last. Nothing had gone particularly to plan so far, I was having trouble reading my prepared cue cards, it had been a mistake to use the green biro especially on the lilac paper : to say thank you to an aunt for record voucher it would be a fine choice but in this light I needed more contrast.

"Gryff ?"

I got up at the sound of my name and followed the voice through the large doors, concentrating on making my face look relaxed, friendly but professional.

"Hello, please take a seat, would you like a glass of water?"

I nodded my agreement and cleared my throat to introduce myself but in doing so the last nugget of donut shot out of my mouth and landed with an audible smack on the forehead of the tallest of the young women before me. We all stopped for a moment, as everyone decided whether or not to mention it. For a second or two I thought I'd get away with it but then she fell to the ground screaming in agony, her forehead apparently burning and rapidly getting darker, her arms flailing: unpleasant smells started to fill the small office.

I knew then I wasn't going to get the job, I also knew that that was no ordinary donut.