Elio pressed the chrome stethoscope against the bear’s painted tummy. He scratched a diagnosis onto baling tape. The screen door banged open. His friend dragged himself in, whispering, "I've got the tummy-scarys." Elio patted the empty spot hard enough to make the cardboard thump. "Sit, patient. Dr. Elio's on duty."
Elio worked the cold stethoscope disc across his friend's tummy, then elbow, then knee. "Tum-tum. Tum-tum. All clear." His friend winced at the cold metal. "It still feels all wobbly inside," he mumbled. The backyard went still except for cicadas sawing the humid air. Elio popped open a juice box with a wet crack.
Elio pressed the diaphragm flat against ribs and tilted his head. His eyes went wide. "Huh. That's not your heartbeat." He lifted the stethoscope and a fat green cricket scuttled across his palm, chirping like a tiny motor. "Grasshopper in the tummy," Elio deadpans. "I'll need to write you a prescription." His friend cracked up, a wet, snorting laugh that shook him clean off the box.
Elio dropped the stethoscope and wrapped both arms around his friend, pulling him in until the cardboard walls creaked. His friend's chin thudded against Elio's shoulder. Fingers curled into the back of the t-shirt and gripped tight. "Thanks, Doc," he breathed, voice small and scraped raw. Elio tightened his hold, pressing his cheek to the damp top of his friend's head, holding on until the grip finally loosened.
They tumbled back onto the towel-pillow, the box rattling. Elio draped the stethoscope around his neck like a medal. "Right," he announced, shoving the diaphragm under his friend's tummy. "Let's see what it sounds like when I tickle it." His friend grinned, kicking his legs off the box. The two of them were already squabbling over who gets to be patient next, their voices bouncing off the sun-bleached fence.
The cardboard walls creaked as they shifted positions. Elio adjusted the earpieces, focusing intently on the rhythm. His friend held his breath, waiting for the verdict. The cicadas continued their steady hum outside. For a moment, the only sound was the soft rustle of fabric as they settled deeper into the makeshift clinic.
Sunlight shifted across the yard, turning the dust motes into floating gold. The box felt cooler now, shaded by the growing afternoon. Elio checked the bear again, ensuring its diagnosis remained valid. His friend watched the clouds drift past the opening, breathing slowly. The tension had melted away, replaced by the quiet comfort of shared silence.
They tumbled out onto the grass, laughing. The stethoscope lay forgotten on the towel. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in orange and purple. They walked toward the house, shoulders brushing, ready for dinner. The clinic would wait for tomorrow's patients, its cardboard walls holding the memory of cured fears and shared jokes.
