“A doctor will see you shortly.”

I took the yellow triage wristband and crouched a little to snap it securely around June’s tiny left ankle.

June gave a weak, breathless whimper that barely carried across the quiet lobby counter.

Behind us, Ethan stopped pacing and walked back toward the hallway leading into the main waiting room.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled his phone halfway out, and tapped the screen to check his notifications.

“June Donnelly?” a pediatric triage nurse called from the doorway of exam room three.