Marvin walked into the reception area, his nose instinctively wrinkling at the stark, white walls. He fought the urge to shield his eyes from the angelic glow.
The middle-aged woman behind the reception desk, also dressed in white, smiled. “How can we help you?”
Marvin smiled back, his eyes focused on her face, away from all the white. “I"m here to see Doctor Miller. My name is Marvin Ribaldi.” Marvin handed her the stack of forms he"d filled out at home.
“Hello, Mr. Ribaldi. I"m sure you get a lot of Marvin the Martian jokes,” she said warmly. The woman didn"t meet his eyes, her hands busily typing. He wondered if this was the opening to a flirtation. Stop it, he thought. That"s the kind of thing you"re here for. Focus.
“Sure,” said Marvin. “Mostly from kids. Not from middle-aged folk
