The clinic was quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against the skin and made every small sound feel louder. The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed softly above, and the air smelled faintly of antiseptic and something clean and sharp. She was the last appointment of the day.
The waiting room was empty when the nurse called her name. She followed the sound of her own footsteps down the hall, her heart tapping against her ribs. The door at the end of the corridor stood slightly ajar. A sliver of warm light cut across the floor.
She stepped inside.
The doctor was there, still in his white coat. His sleeves were rolled just enough to show the veins along his forearms. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his stethoscope hung loose around his neck. He turned when he heard her, and h
