The heart clinic is small, filled with the elderly. I’m the youngest person there. It makes no sense, but heart conditions aren’t discriminative. Like bullets, they can’t tell age or sex. I’m nervous, but half of me already expects a clean bill of health. I’m also hungry. The two do not mix well. It’s been about twelve hours since I last ate. Expecting the EKG, I know they’re going to do blood work, too. Or ask to schedule it. I’m ready. And when the doctor asks me to come in for it, I tell him that I’m ready for it now if he would like to take it. But that’s later. This is now. It’s still early in the day. The heat, however, suggests…