yj86
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Samira Mohan is lonely.
Jack Abbot notices.
Bookmarked by yj86
07 Jun 2025
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Abbot is vibrating, and she feels it. Feels it resonating between her ribs. His hands are clasped around a near-empty glass. “I didn’t know you were dating an anesthesiologist.”
Is she vibrating, too?
“He’s great.” Samira doesn’t know if it’s for her or Abbot, but she says it. Thomas is great. He checks every box.
------Mohabbot across five New Year's Eves. Right person, wrong time--or whatever it is they say.
Bookmarked by yj86
04 Jun 2025
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"I think there's something wrong with me." It's a whisper dragged from Samira's lips, from the very depth of her.
"I think I might be a bad person." Chokes on it, on the pain, on the terrible truth, the indictment of her soul, of her morality, of her humanity. The evidence - plain and simple - that Samira Mohan was rotten to the core.
***
or, The Evolution of Samira Mohan in three acts.Bookmarked by yj86
31 May 2025
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Samira Mohan makes lists; she makes plans; she has short, medium and long term goals; colour coded planners; countdown calendars; a goddamn vision board.
She does not follow handsome attendings out of bars into the snow.
She does not bite her lips bashfully when men call her beautiful.
Men do not call her beautiful.
She does not let them get close enough to say those words.
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Samira Mohan wakes up in Jack Abbot's bed.
Bookmarked by yj86
30 May 2025
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“Will you teach me?” she asks, an unconscious echo of her first approach to him.
“That’s not what we’ve been doing, Samira?”
She finishes the rest of her beer and puts it back down on the table with a loud clunk. “Will you teach me to do a crike with my eyes closed?” She looks up at him. Her turn to counter, now, with a purposeful, “Jack?”
His jaw ticks. She smiles.
After Pittfest, Samira asks Dr. Abbot for a crash course in combat medicine. She gets more than she bargained for.
Bookmarked by yj86
22 May 2025