muse:v is for vixen.

a/n: y'all can guess at what inspired this story. but even if you guess it, i'm not tellin'.
muse:
getting back to work in the fall was actually a lot easier than i had imagined. even though i didn't get to see everyone at the office anymore, it was still relatively routine. the crisp white of the clinic walls were still inviting, as was the huge mess of coats, umbrellas, and purses that hung from the hooks near the computers.

i clock in, the machine marking its territory in my timecard for only the third time this month. my nametag slides easily over my head. the phone rings softly, and i leap to answer it.

"how may i help you?"

"i'd like to schedule an appointment," the telephone replies.

i pull up the scheduler and we both agree on the day.

"can i get a name for the appointment?"

"sure. lemme spell it for you. v, as in victor..."

i resist the urge to slam the phone down. i try and resist the urge to scream at the person not to say that, anything but that. she finishes spelling her name and then she's gone.

* * *
the phone rings again. i pick up lazily.

"how may i help you?"

"yes, i'd like to know which doctor i saw last time," the woman on the phone responds.

i slide on over to the laptop, inputting all of her information.

"last time you saw dr. rover."

"can you spell that for me, please?"

"r as in red, o, v as in vixen--"

"well that's unusual. normally people say 'v as in victor.'"

i squirm.

"well, that's just how i like to say it."

"i think it connotates something different though, you know? something dirty."

i flush a slight pink and try not to lose my temper. who does this lady think she is, telling me how i should address the letter v? a vixen could be a fox. which of course, never implies anything dirty. seriously.

"anyway, e as in egg, r as in red. have a nice day."

the phone goes back to square one, and i lean back in my chair and sigh.

it's so hard to try and forget you when people keep saying your name.