A cookie for anyone who catches the Doctor Who reference. "Breathe Clara, Breathe." It was hard. The weight of what I was walking into crushing down on my chest. I took one last big breath and walked in. I took in my surrondings as I entered the waiting room. As if my urge to hurl wasn't bad enough, I had just walked into the ugliest room you could ever imagine being in. The walls were dark brown and the carpet pea green. A stale smell wafted in the air. I could feel myself becoming light headed. There were a few other anxious looking folk, waiting for God knows what. I walked up to the woman behind the receptionist counter. Even she was wearing the most hideous top I'd ever laid eyes on. "What can I do for you... Uh, sir?" "Ma'am." I corrected her. "And I have a 2:30 with Dr. Smith." "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Can I get your name for the registry, Ma'am?" Fuck, she had to ask. "It's uh, it's Adam." I said with my eyes on the floor and hand on the back of my neck. It was the name on my ID and insurance. I looked up and back to find the room staring at me. I stuck my tongue out at them in a childish act of rebellion, bastards. The receptionist brought me back. "Ok, I just need you fill out this sheet." She said handing me a clipboard. I began filling the sheet of generic medical questions. Female, check. Age, 19. Reason for visit, Hormone therapy. I looked up to find some of the people still staring at me. One was an obese old man with a cane and air tank on a dolly. I gave him the stink eye and he looked away. As I went back to my sheet Dr. Smith came out from the back and said my name. "Clara?" When he said it sounded so warm. It wasn't my first time with him. He moved offices and I followed. Walking in here almost made it seem like a mistake. But once he gave his bright smile I knew I was good hands. "Come on back. We'll get you taken care of."