Book The Intern Novels & Stories

"Let go of me!" I screamed at the general manager, Zachary Campbell. "I really am a doctor!" Subsequently, I turned toward my intern, Lydia Sharpe, and yelled, "What the hell are you doing? Are you aware of how crucial the situation is? Explain everything to them and release me right now!" Lydia was the intern I had been mentoring, and she was the most incompetent doctor I had ever seen. Once, she even switched saline for lobeline in an operating room. If I hadn't caught that mistake in time, her actions would've caused a serious medical incident.

the receptionist announced. Charles got up, waiting briefly for me to join him. “Alright, Haven’s,” he said, making sure to whisper my last name, which made me laugh. “Lead the way.” *** By lunch, I had settled in just fine. There were five other interns. Two girls—Dana McCartney and Destiny Johnson. They stuck together, pretty much the same way Charles and I did all day. The three other guys, too, Samson Wang, Kevin Curtis and Waldo Todd, whom I didn’t meet until lunch because they were at a court hearing.

“I’M NEVER GOING BACK THERE!” ***** “You survived two weeks of extreme mental torture. Anyone would hire you for sure. If you’re strapped for cash, you can always take up a part time job here at the university—the admin office seems to be short-handed these days, after their intern quit.” At the word ‘intern’, more resentment pushed through in a heartbroken bawl. “I’m so screwed!” “Damn it, Rose, you’re not screwed!” Joy blasted. “They are! They are insecure wimps who are terrified of your gift—.”

"What's funny, Peter?" "Nothing, sir." "Peter, speak." He laughed softly. "You've been distracted all morning." "I've had a lot on my mind." "Apparently." I gave him a warning look. He wisely returned to the documents. "Anyway, the Singapore numbers are ready." "Leave them." He placed the file on my desk. "Done." He reached the door, then stopped. "By the way, the new intern seems to be settling in well." I looked at him. "Good."

What kind of intern drove different kinds of luxury cars to work? “I can get back myself.” “I want to come.” I pointed to the car and shook my head. “You don't like the car?” He turned to his assistant standing there. “Get a new car...” His eyes trailed back to me. “What kind of car do you...” I pressed a finger over his mouth and shook my head. “I am an intern here. I am supposed to be poor and not come into work looking like I have millions.” “But you have...” “Nobody should know.”

I shrugged and finished the beer. "You always have been a horrible liar." "Yeah, I know." I tossed the bottle in the pool just to hear him bitch about it. "Come on, asshole." He got up as I laughed. "There is this one girl. She's an intern at the hospital." "An intern?" He handed me his beer and picked up the pool net to fish out my bottle. "How old is this intern?" "I don't know. Twenty-four maybe?" "Cradle robber." He smiled over his shoulder.

Then a name surfaced, an image forming in her mind: the quiet, meticulous intern. “There is… Luke,” she finally said, the name feeling strangely small in the vast office. “He’s an intern. Marketing assistant. He’s incredibly organized, intelligent, and remarkably discreet. He processes information quickly and follows instructions to the letter. He’s also… very quiet. He doesn’t engage in office gossip, keeps to himself.”

Her cathedral. She slouched into her best corner chair—stuffed, tufted velvet in tired blue—pullding out a book from her tote. A quiet night's reading before bed was now her ritual, and for tonight, she opened what was familiar and comforting: *The Light Between Oceans*. The book always bore its imprint on her. Loss. Forgiveness. Breaking and binding decisions. She opened to the top of it, and the world disintegrated. Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him.

In the entrance hall alone, there were row after row of portraits we'd painted of each other. Isaac said, "This series is called 'Only One.' As you can see, the only portraits I've ever painted are of her. She is my one and only. But as far as I know, Ms. Townsend isn't your one and only, right?" The cameras' flashbulbs went wild, making Anthony seem even more ashen. Aside from that minor scene, the opening went perfectly. Anthony continued to pester me for a few more months, and I filed three police reports. He finally slunk back home when his visa was about to expire.

“You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to drag me into whatever this is and then act like I’m some outsider.” The harsh words hung between us. I thought he was going to snap at me but he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled slowly. “She’s not important,” he said. “Well, she didn’t look unimportant either.” Silence occurred again. “She’s an intern in the school.” He finally responded. I frowned. Intern? That old? Was that a trick to probably get closer to him? “When did the school start taking interns?” I was genuinely surprised. “Do you know her before she became an intern in the campus?” I asked.