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| Veronica
snaps her right hand fingers, which is her most assertive way to
agreeing with anything. The receptionist shoves a clipboard with
a pen and form into Veronica’s face. Veronica breathes deeply,
and exhales into a wide, fake smile – the kind her mother
taught her to put on when she was in Junior High, the kind of smile
she hated so much. She takes the clipboard, holds her smile, and
walks to find a seat. “We’ll call your name when Dr. Kcops is ready to see you.” Veronica almost trips forgetting that she was wearing such pointy high heels. She’s used to platform shoes. She scratches her upper back thigh through her uncomfortable pantyhose and sits on a chair between a young man in an expensive suit and a middle-aged woman, wearing heavy perfume. The woman is pulling back her straight black hair into a ponytail as she weeps. She then blows her nose into a crumpled tissue. Veronica adjusts her bum in her seat, tries to ignore the bizarre characters around her, and lowers her face into the form. There are a million little questions on this form. |
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