Taste of Love by Ella Goode EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: Ella Goode
- Language: English
- Genre: Two-Hour Romance Short Reads
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“THE LAB RESULTS ARE IN.” CALVIN, MY ASSISTANT, PLACES THE MOST
recently run report next to my elbow.
“Thanks,” I reply without looking up from the study I’m reading. The
numbers aren’t matching up like they should, and it’s giving me a headache.
“It’s nearly six, Dr. Ali.”
“Okay.” The healthy controls’ average age is too low compared to the
ones for Lewy bodies and Alzheimer’s patients.
“Have you eaten?”
Why would we create a control pool that doesn’t match? I need to look
at the protocols and recruitment data.
“We ordered food an hour ago. It’s cold now, but I could heat some up
before I leave.”
“No.” The intake data pool had to be within the correct parameters. Did
we pare the healthy control group too aggressively or not aggressively
“You haven’t eaten all day, Dr. Ali.”
“Not hungry.” I pull up the eligibility criteria for the clinical trial. The
age groups were the same for all patient populations.
“I’ll leave the food in the break room. You can just stick the tray in the
microwave. Press the second button for a two-minute reheat.”
“Two minutes. Second button. Got it.” At this stage, it would be
prohibitively expensive to restart the trial, but I don’t remember the age
discrepancy from the first two stages. I click around and find the first stage
report and begin to read. The ages in the abstract are different. Something
happened in the last stage then. I hunt for the preliminary reports. As I
study the data, the outside noise starts to filter through.
“He’s not been eating well for ages.”
“I’m seriously concerned about him. Is he always like this?”
“No, this is definitely the worst it’s been. I swear he’s subsisting on
caffeine and nuts and not much more.”
“What should we do?”
“What can we do? He’s a grown man plus our boss. You do your best,
Calvin. You’re his assistant, not his maid.”
“Or personal chef.”
“I know, but when he doesn’t eat, he’s…”
“He’s like a robot.”
“Maybe all he needs is caffeine. Like that’s the robot oil for Dr. Ali.”
“Stop worrying, Calvin. Let’s all go home. It’s ridiculous we have to be
here for so long just because Dr. Ali is a machine.”
I shut the voices out and continue reading. Hours later, I have my
answer. Stage two ended up weeding out too many of our older healthy
control members, leaving us with a sample pool that averages four years
younger than the non-placebo patients. As fatigue courses through my body,
I let my head fall back to the top of my chair.
The clock on my desk says it’s midnight. My stomach grumbles. The
mug next to my keyboard is empty. What did Calvin say about the food?
Red light? No. It wasn’t lights. It was minutes. I drop my glasses onto the
report he’d brought in and make my way to the kitchen. Inside the
refrigerator are containers of food. One of them has a yellow stickie that
says Eat me.
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