He glances through my chart; he clears his throat, his expression unreadable.
He stands, flashes me an uncomfortable smile, and says, "I'll be right back."
I stare down at my peeling candy-red toenail polish and pull my feet under the chair, even though there's no one else in the room: I'm ashamed I haven't had a pedicure in over a month.
I'm wary of what he's going to say when he comes back into the room.
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