A Thorn for the Surgeon

I had been waiting for the new head of the department. And he…
— You’ll never become a good surgeon— his lips twist; his voice is cold.
I clench my fists.
— These… women’s quirks of yours— he gestures carelessly— won’t work here. A surgeon needs iron nerves and a steady hand!
— How dare you?!— I snap, stepping closer. I hiss directly in his face.
We end up far too close. We breathe the same air. Something flares in his eyes—his pupils widen—and in the very next second the man sharply steps back.
— I said everything! No way! I’ll prove to this arrogant jerk that I’m capable of much—and make him regret his words!