The family meeting I rehearsed in the shower

I've been thinking about the one I rehearsed for weeks, the one where I'd tell the grown children that their father's scans were clean. When the moment came, I forgot every word. The patient's wife just looked at me and said, 'You're late with the good news, doc.' That was twenty years ago, and I still circle back to the chipped mug on my desk that morning—cracked, but still holding coffee.