For the short story reader. Updated every Monday.

The Short Form

“Minor Surgery”

Ana María Shua


The doctor looks like the prosperous owner of a restaurant. It's possible to imagine him controlling the activities of his employees, the hunks of cooked ham that fall one by one onto the wax paper, opening the oven where the chickens slowly rotate so he can turn them one more time with his expert finishing touch. 

Laura can't take her eyes off his hands, those small fat hands that are going to work on her body. The doctor is reduced to a one-dimensional image of his hands moving efficiently, accepting the money, giving Laura a number that he tears off a green receipt book. It's number eleven, but don't worry, I'll call you early, the doctor assures them, speaking as if he were their friend.