I’m waiting for five minutes now, even though I am 15 minutes late. The woman at the desk sorts through papers. I notice a colorful little childrens’ book lying on the small wooden table in the opposite corner of the room. It is ironic that while they cared enough to set up this tiny playground for the kids, with two video game stations, both empty, a little girl screams behind the closed door so loudly she drowns out the sharp electric buzzing.
This is what I am here for too.
I don’t want to think about this.
I look around me, but there is nothing else to look at. The walls are blank, sans two randomly hung papers advertizing the importance of washing one’s hands and flossing every day.
I look down at the light grey tiles beneath my feet and wonder what caused me to have to go to this place. Maybe countless cans of coca – cola. Maybe because God willed it that way, and I as the main character in the story have to suddenly learn something new.
The door opens and a man wearing a long white coat calls me in.