Just imagine for a little bit. A dentist office, but don’t picture a clinic. Rather, a cozy little room with sky blue walls and purple and yellow patterned carpet. It’s quiet and warm, sunlight coming in from two spacious windows to your left. You sit in a worn leather couch facing the front desk. Jennie is her name. She answers the incoming calls, steadily and kindly, her voice breaks up the little drum in your ear. You can’t see Jennie, but her hair peeks out from above the wall window. It’s yellow and curly and it moves left and right. She’s typing softly, clicking away with the seconds. You are reading a book about life and death. With each finished paragraph, you look out the glass door at the cars passing by down the street and the little red car that pulls up in the driveway. A lady with a green jacket and a purse slung around her shoulders step out of a parked van with her child and walk into a store front. It’s late morning and the smell of coffee draws you into the next room. You pour yourself a cup and skip the sweetener. Down the hall drifts over you the dull sound of conversations and water draining; each room, a different aura. You can’t walk down that way so you retreat back to your seat. The glass door dings with the sound of a bell hung loosely around the handle. The chorus of daily motions come flooding through the open door. A father and a son walks in, shoes shuffling across the carpet. The door shuts; the choir hushes. Your eyes follow their back to the wall window where Jennie will take care of them.
“Hello, how may I help you?” A bright smile.
“My son , Leo, has an appointment today.” A pat on the head.
Leo looks at you as you pretend to read about the dying man on the bed teaching his student. Leo smiles and waves coyly. You smile back and they take a seat. Leo’s feet dangles off the edge of the cushion chair and his boots make a squeaky sound with every kick. His father takes out his phone and becomes distracted. You stare at the page in front of you but in your corner vision, Leo steps off his chair, a sunbeam seemingly following him into the shadow of the hallway.