Elena had spent fifteen years in this room. She had seen infants who could fit in the palm of her hand grow into teenagers who now ducked their heads to enter her door. She was used to the "symphony" of a pediatric office—the high-pitched giggles from the waiting room, the rhythmic crinkle of exam table paper, and the occasional, inevitable wail of a toddler who spotted a needle.
Dr. Elena Vance’s office was more of a technicolor dreamscape than a sterile clinic. Hand-drawn dinosaurs lived on the walls, and the "Scale of Bravery" by the door featured a cartoon lion that grew fluffier the taller a patient stood. pediatrician
Leo squeezed his eyes shut, his cape fluttering as he held his breath. "Done," Elena whispered a second later. Leo opened one eye. "That’s it?" Elena had spent fifteen years in this room
"I have a force field, Dr. Elena," Leo informed her, crossing his arms tightly. "No pokes allowed." Leo squeezed his eyes shut, his cape fluttering