The clerk printed out a stack of forms on clipboards and pushed them through the slot.

“Fill these out and wait by the far wall,” the clerk said.

Richard took the paperwork and led us toward a row of plastic chairs.

I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

The floor seemed to tilt every time I blinked.

I sat down heavily in an orange plastic seat.

“Sit up straight, sweet girl,” Linda said.

“People are staring at us.”

She didn’t touch my arm or brush the hair out of my eyes.

Her rehearsed pet name sounded hollow against the buzz of the lights.

Richard pulled his heavy leather briefcase onto his lap, popped the brass latches, and took out a thick blue folder.

He set the blue folder on his knees, laid the hospital intake forms right on top of it, and started writing.

“Are you writing down my symptoms for the nurse?” I asked.

Richard didn’t look up.