“What do you mean he isn’t speaking again?” the vet asked, looking obviously frustrated.
The elderly fisherman sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the cold floor.
The clinic smelled like disinfectant mixed with the faint scent of wet dogs.
"Basically," the vet continued, "if he won’t talk, we can’t understand what’s wrong with the fish."
The nurse sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"Unfortunately, the old man’s mistake is clear now.
He mixed up the medicines, giving the cat a pill meant for the parrot.
It’s not serious, but it’s a problem."
The fisherman’s hands trembled slightly, but he said nothing.
The chaos outside the room made it generally hard to focus.
The phone kept ringing anyway, breaking the calm for a second.
"Luckily, the parrot seems fine," said the vet, trying to sound hopeful.
"And by the way, we’ll keep an eye on the cat overnight."
The nurse glanced at the silent fisherman.
"Actually, he’s stronger than he looks," she whispered.
"Specifically, he’s stubborn.
He won’t admit the mistake, but maybe that’s what will help him get through this."
The fisherman finally looked up, and although he didn’t speak, his eyes said everything was not lost.
"Obviously," the vet said, "sometimes mistakes cannot be undone, only accepted.
It’s a small lesson on a chaotic day."
The fisherman nodded slowly, as if the clinic’s noise faded away like a stone dropping into deep water, and he was ready to face whatever came next.
