The Snow Flake
*****This is quite a mind-opening story. The subject matter is quite intriguing. I believe the process you write about here is CAR-T cell therapy in which mitochondria from a donor are placed in cells of a patient, and over time a new genetic structure actually replaces the original genetic structure in the replicated cells. You have utilized this process in a unique manner in the telling of this enthralling tale. Are you going to expand upon the premise in a broader context? I know you said in your email that this story was for a contest on this site. However, you could take this story past the horrible word count restrictions these contests always impose. If you do, I would be interested in reading the results.
I obviously included some grammatical observations below. I am sure you already knew about their existence and would have corrected them upon your rewrite. Also, I think the ending needs some work. I think I see what you are getting at concerning the snowflakes and the blankets of snow. The main character's genetic changes transformed him into something different than what he was in the beginning. Like the individual flakes of snow piling atop the cars, masking them, yet maintaining their shape under a blanket of white. I believe you can create something memorable if you work a little at the ending of this story. These few suggestions are all that I could find to comment on. This is a very good story, and I wish you luck in the contest.
Thank you for writing this and letting me read it.
Dennis
P.S. Please see below for a few grammatical issues where all of my suggestions are in parenthesis. I apologize for reprinting the entire story, but I couldn't think of any other way to include the issues in a more economical manner.
Dan stood outside his brownstone and stared up at the falling snow. The cars parked along the street wore their coats of white until their owners came out to sweep them clean.
A snowflake landed on his eyelash and he thought about how unique each flake was formed. All of them falling, collecting, stacking one on top of another until there was no definitive flake. Only the piles of white stuff that would eventually be trampled by boots, tires, scraped into trucks and hauled away.
Stuffing his gloved hands into the pockets of his wool overcoat(,) he headed to meet a reporter at the Blue Moon Cafe. As he maneuvered his steps he still thought about all the snowflakes his boots disintegrated, obliterating them in his wake. Soon he would be like them. Everything he started out as was gone.
Entering the cafe he searched the faces for the woman who'd sent him the email along with her picture. None looked like her. He accepted a booth near the back next to the window. He wanted to watch the snow fall(snowfall).
"Mr. Minks? Daniel Minks?" A woman's confident voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked up to see a statuesque woman wrapped in a bright red wool coat (,which) she was in the process of removing. Under it(,) her brown hair danced in the air from the static electricity the action caused. She wore a sweater dress over black tights or those leg things women wore now days(nowadays). Her boots were fur(-)lined and serviceable instead of stylish.
He'd stood when she called his name and he'd taken her coat to hang next to his on the hook next to their booth. "It's good to meet you Ms. Regan. Did you have any trouble getting here?" He pressed his lips closed to keep from blathering.
She smiled and her lips parted to reveal white teeth. A squint in the corners of her eyes showed it was a true smile not the artificial ones he'd been used to.
" Please call me Tori. It was fine. I took a taxi over. It's not far, that's why I picked it. Half way(Halfway) between your place and my work." She'd pulled a leather notebook and fountain pen from her bag as she spoke, unscrewing the cap. "Now I am very interested in what you had to tell me over the phone. I already called the Doctor, whose name you'd given me(,) and he sent over the DNA explanation." She looked at her notes. "He did tell me he had to withhold some details as he was writing this up for publication."
"I'm sure he would. He's a great guy and deserves to get acclaims for this research. This is just my story. What happened to me can happen to anyone."
A wait person(waitperson) stopped to take our order. Neither of us looked at a menu and none had been offered. Asking for suggestions, they took their cue from her and placed their order. When she'd left(,) Tori took a sip from her water goblet and asked. "Who are you?"
I paused. This was going to be a hard story to tell. "I'm glad you have Doctor Bream's reports. What do they say? What do you know?"
Again she looked at her notebook and then at him. He felt her eyes look into his soul or was it somewhere else? He let his gaze lower to the table where he pressed creases into the napkin.
"You got a bone marrow transplant six years ago. You work for a forensic lab and have your own DNA from swabs and blood on file. My guess is you aren't going to be committing any crimes."
He felt(the warmth of) her smile before he looked up to see it. He needed a life, if just looking at this woman he'd never met was affecting him. Maybe it was his new DNA? He almost smiled.
She continued after his nod. "You and your colleagues talked about the possibilities of chimeraism." She paused and waited for his(him) to look at her. "I had to look that up. At first(,) I didn't get the comparison. It took some explaining from your doctor. You have two DNA blood types in your body."
"Not really. My DNA has been almost totally replaced by my donor's blood DNA."
"How could that even happen?"
"Think about it. I have weak blood and I need fresh blood to strengthen mine. Since I had leukemia(,) I looked for a marrow donor and we found one. After the transplant, I had that donors blood transfusions. It didn't take long. We tested by(my) blood before and after. I no longer have the DNA I was born with." he stopped. Their food arrived.
Dan wasn't really hungry any more(anymore). The conversation had obliterated all thoughts of food. When he'd seen the results of the test his mind couldn't conceive the ramifications of what had happened.
"So if you sent your DNA into one of the data bases(databases), you'd no longer be related to the family or tree you'd been born to." She held her pen poised above the page.
He'd just nodded. "Had you already had a DNA sent in to(into) one of them?"
Again he nodded. "I did. I got a profile and matches to family all over."
"What if you did it again?" Her expression showed true interest and curiosity.
"It would come back that I'm related to my donor's family. The markers match his DNA exactly."
"Like you're twins?"
"No. We have gene differences. Even my chromosomes are different."
"Wow(,) this is amazing."
"You're telling me." This time he picked up the toasted brushcetta(bruschetta). The crusty texture and seasoned tomato tasted good. When had he liked this food? Odd. He didn't remember ever ordering it. Yet when he saw it(,) he knew it would taste good.
"What other things have changed?"
He didn't know if he wanted to get into that. He took another bite and watched as she also ate. Seconds passed and she took a drink then looked at him, expecting an answer.
"My child will not have the same lineage I was born into."**( "You might clarify this sentence a little with something like this: "After my treatments, my children will not have the same lineage I was born into.")
Her fork dropped. She gulped and then began coughing. Apparently, she hadn't swallowed her drink. He started to get up but she waved him back to his seat. "I'll be fine," she wheezed.
He waited while she got her breathing under control. She leaned across her plate, her expression serious. "That means your next child wouldn't be a match to any child you had before this. Are you married?"
"I'm a widower and I have a daughter." Dan dipped bread into the oil and vinegar dish between them and bit off a piece.
"I'm sorry. How awful." He watched her face as she made a horrified expression.
"I am the same person. My personality, my likes and dislikes are the same, so far." He didn't mention he hadn't like(d) the brushcetta before. "Who I am, based on my experiences, didn't change. Only the molecular(genetic) make-up inside my body has changed."
"How do you feel about that?"
"At first, as horrified as you looked a moment ago." He smiled at her.
"I'm sorry. I seem to be saying that a lot. I-apol-ah, never mind. Did you seek help to deal with your acceptance?"
"Not really. I talked to my coworkers about it since they're forensic specialists and understand that aspect. I talked a lot. It probably helped more than I realized until now."
"Do you have any fears going forward?" She slipped into reporter mode.
Dan relaxed a bit,(. or ;) this conversation was easier to deal with than the emotional reaction. "I don't know. It's all still a bit new. As I said, who I am is the same."
"So far." She raised her eyebrows at him in question.
He gave a bit of a nod to one side. "True."
Her phone buzzed somewhere in her bag. She looked at him.
"Go ahead and answer it." He looked at the snow piled on the cars parked along the curb, (t)They were the exact same as those parked outside his house. The outline of the snow followed the car's detail. The flakes lost their unique formation as they piled on top of each other, just like he was.
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