Telling Details

Entering the quiet, serene doctor’s office, I left the noisy, bustling city at the door. Approaching the cold, marble counter, I was fervently greeted by the receptionist. After checking-in, I retreated to the sofa and let my body sink into the cushions. Playing in the background was jazz music; at a volume so low it could have gone unnoticed. The air conditioning was on and the cool air moved through the room swaying my hair across my back. Every brochure, piece of paper, booklet, and product was placed with such purposeful organization. The immaculate office smelled of sterility, as if it had just been cleaned. Breaking the tranquil silence, another patient tromped into the office. Practically bellowing her complaint that her shoes were too loud, everyone in the room became vigilant of her. Plummeting next to me, she adjusted her black high heels. With grace, the doctor noiselessly opened the waiting room door, and then delightedly called my name for my appointment.

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