The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and peppermint tea, a place where time seemed to slow down. Three elderly gentlemen sat in a row, coats folded over their knees, canes resting like loyal companions.
Dr. Halpern glanced at his clipboard and smiled. Today wasn’t scary—it was just a memory assessment, a routine check on how the mind ages.
First up, Mr. Arthur straightened his back proudly. “What is three times three?” the doctor asked. Arthur furrowed his brow, lips moving silently, then declared confidently, “Two hundred and seventy-four!”
Dr. Halpern nodded kindly, jotting notes, while Arthur beamed.
Next, Mr. Bernard leaned on his cane, winked, and said cheerfully, “Tuesday!” The word hung in the air, puzzling but delightful. The doctor scribbled again, trying not to laugh. Bernard chuckled at his own answer.
Finally, Mr. Clarence, quietly watching, was asked the same question. He paused briefly, then said, “Nine.” The doctor looked surprised. “Correct,” he said. Clarence grinned and whispered, “I knew because I subtracted Tuesday from two hundred and seventy-four.”
The room erupted in laughter. Arthur laughed, Bernard laughed, even the doctor wiped a tear.
As they left together, teasing one another about their answers, passersby smiled. Three old friends proved that aging minds may wander, but laughter and friendship never fade.
Dr. Halpern made his final note: “Memory uncertain. Spirits excellent.”
