At two in the afternoon, the waiting room at the Vance Clinic was nearly empty.

A TV on the far wall was playing a home improvement show with the sound off.

A couple on the screen were tearing down a drywall partition with matching hammers.

It looked just like the sort of demolition job Richard did every week.

The sharp smell of hospital sanitizer hung in the dry air.

Brenda Brooks walked past the front desk, fiddling with her blue lanyards nonstop.

She gave me a quick nod but kept going toward the glass doors of the billing office.