Brooklyn looked down at the yellow crayon box, then back at her purple drawing.

She accepted the answer without another question, nodding simply and turning her attention back to her crayons.

The clock on the wall read five minutes past eight on Monday morning when Dr.

Vance stepped through the yellow curtain.

He picked up the heavy chart from the foot of the cart and flipped back three pages of flowsheets.

Kevin shifted his weight, and his shoe gave a quiet squeak against the polished linoleum.

Dr.