“Who would ask for her chart twelve days after a clean evaluation?”

Clare squinted at the slip.

“The request came in at the front desk.

There’s no name on this copy.” She folded it and slipped it into her pad.

“We’ll ask the man who turned it down.”

The clinic on Pendleton Street kept its waiting room so cold that I left my coat on.

Dr.

Thomas Wright saw me at twenty after four, between a man with a cane and a woman clutching a pharmacy bag in both arms.