Juliana sat in the lineup, examining the forms. Five short years had passed; time for the sadistic ritual of driver’s license renewal.
She made sure her name and address were properly filled out, went through the list of potential health problems that could prevent her from getting the renewal, looked over her emergency contact information – her mother – then came to the last question. She read it again, twice.
Do I want to be an organ donor? she thought to herself. Yes, no, yes, no. Maybe?
On the one hand, she considered, it would be good for others. On the other hand, there was the big scandal two years ago, where hospitals were harvesting organs before patients were confirmed dead.
She didn’t want people to give up on her too soon, but she knew it would benefit her fellow citizens if she said yes. She put the pen to her lip, considering, then pulled it away, realizing it wasn’t her pen, but one she had taken from the counter. Gross, she thought.
“A-232,” a voice announced.
Juliana looked at her ticket: A-232. She stood and walked toward the counter, quick enough so they knew she was coming, but slowly enough to give herself an extra moment to think. Yes, no, maybe, I don’t know, she thought.
She reached the counter and said, “License renewal, please.”
“Form,” the counter agent said.
Juliana lifted the form, placed it on the counter, and quickly checked the “Yes” box, hoping she was doing the right thing. “Here you are,” she said, handing the paper to the woman before she could rethink it.
“Thank you,” the agent said, and started typing information into the computer. “You want a new picture?”
“Yes please,” Juliana said.
“Okay, take a seat over there, we’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
Juliana walked back to the chairs and sat down, feeling good about herself as she continued to worry.