The dim glow of the TV screen cast shadows on my face as I held onto the nearly empty bag of Pirate’s Booty. The laugh track from the show echoed in the quiet room, a feeble attempt to drown out the loneliness that lingered around me.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed, startling me from my TV-induced trance. The name on the screen, Dr. Keene, made my heart race with anxiety. Taking a deep breath, I answered the call.
“Hi, it’s Dr. Keene. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” her calm voice did little to ease my nerves.
“No, it’s okay. What’s going on?” I tried to sound composed, but my voice quivered with fear.
“I’ve been looking into your case, and I think you’d be a great fit for our clinical trial,” she explained. A mix of emotions flooded through me – hope, fear, anticipation, and exhaust
