Petr Zuska’s gloved hands press a cold stethoscope to Jan Bavor’s bare chest while he lies flat, arms pinned above his head, as the exam table creaks under his weight. The light skin of his shoulders and back is traced with deliberate pressure, fingers probing each vertebra, testing the limits of his spine’s bend, while the medical chart in the corner lists measurements no one else will see. Every joint is flexed, every muscle tested, the assessment moving from ribs to hips with the same clinical precision as it did from neck to asshole.
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