public justice

Her colleague hands her a manila envelope, asks her if she can process the blood samples. He's gone before she has a chance to reply.

"You've been here for three years," she mumbles to herself. "You can do this."

She opens the envelope and allows the contents to spill out onto the table. Slowly, meticulously, she arranges the samples into tiny test tubes. She stares at the rack. She can't come up with the name of one compound.

She realizes that she should've paid more attention in biology class, instead of chatting up the cute foreign exchange student from Germany.