The Bomb Drop

I run my fingers over the keyboard, desperate to stay on top of the emails, of sending the requested clinical notes exactly where they need to go. Import. Export. Attach. Type. Send. Rinse and repeat. I catch my tongue between my teeth and hold it prisoner as I get to the end of a lengthy email to an insurance company who refused to pay out on our last patient's appointment even though it was pre-approved.

"Excuse me." I lift my head as an elderly woman slides her slender arms along the glass top of the reception desk. "I've been waiting for over an hour. My appointment was meant to be forty minutes ago."

I fake a warm smile. "Thank you for being so patient. Mason won't be much longer."

With an elongated sigh, she turns away from me, and I hit send on my email. I sit back in my seat as Mason exits his therapy room with his current patient. The man, who goes by the name of Gary Voss, keeps his head down and strolls from the clinic without so much as a glance in my direction.

"File this,