My Fathers' Ghost is Climbing in the Rain: A Novel by Patricio Pron:
A doctor started to walk toward us from the opposite end of the hallway, and when we saw him we stood up without thinking. I’m going to examine him, he warned us, and then he went into my father’s room and he was there for a little while. We were waiting outside, not knowing what to say. My mother was looking out the large window behind us as a small tugboat dragged a much larger vessel upriver, toward the port. I held in my hands a magazine about cars, even though I don’t know how to drive; someone had left it on one of the seats and I merely let my eyes slide over its pages in an exercise as restful as contemplating a landscape, although in this case it was a landscape of incomprehensible technological innovations. The doctor finally came out and said that everything was the same, that there was no news at all. I thought out of us should ask him something so that the doctor would see we were really worried about my father’s situation, so I asked him how his temperature was. The doctor squinted for a second, and then he looked at me incredulously and stammered: His temperature is perfectly normal, there’s no problem with his temperature; and I thanked him and he nodded and started to head down the hallway.