At the doctor's office

Jenn smoothed her blouse in the car’s rearview mirror, heart a little tighter than usual. At thirty-eight, she liked to feel in control, but doctor’s offices always made her uneasy.

The parking lot at Willow Creek Medical was empty. She walked inside, heels clicking, and gave her insurance card to the receptionist.

“Take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.” The purple haired 19-year-old receptionist smacked gum in her mouth while checking her in.

Jenn plopped into a vinyl chair, flipping through outdated magazines she barely noticed. A text from her daughter, Samantha, popped up: “Good luck, Mom!” She smiled faintly, though the flutter in her stomach wouldn’t ease.

A nurse called her in, handing her a paper gown. Jenn’s stomach tightened. Changing into gowns had never been comfortable; she never know just how far she should undress.

Something about today felt heavier, though she couldn’t say why.

For now, Jenn had to decide what level she should undress to, if she should undress at all.