Angievoluti was given a challenge to write a story in 100 words which she has passed on to others - so far she has given two titles, and here are my efforts.

Smokescreen

The consulting room door had remained firmly shut since she arrived. Nobody entered or left. Was the doctor even there?
Her chest was tight with the oppressiveness of the atmosphere - the artificially lit corridor, the enervating heat, the lack of air . . .
She could bear it no longer. A nod towards the nurse, a glance at her wrist, a gathering of belongings, and she was at the exit.
Taking a deep breath she rushed, her arms held protectively about her unborn child, through the smokescreen of nicotine addicts, and out into the clean fresh air of the hospital carpark.

Three Missing Fingers

The 'hostess with the mostest', that’s me. Everyone says that my finger buffets are unsurpassed for the elegance of their presentation and the sheer quality of the food. I simply will not skimp with second-rate ingredients.
One last glance around the table: each silver dish is geometrically perfect in its arrangement of canapés, until my eye falls upon the gravidlax on fingers of ciabatta bread. There are three fingers missing!
A choking noise under the table alerts me to the culprit. I lift the corner of the table cloth to find next door’s ginger cat vomiting salmon over the carpet.

I'll throw out my own challenge now with the title Mirror to Nature