“Luna Elena,” Dr. Drake beamed as I walked into his office. He was a man in his late thirties. Handsome, lean. Always with a friendly smile that depicts more of his personality than just for professional reasons.

“Doctor.” He stood and we had a handshake. “I'm sorry, I'm late. Traffic was horrible and…”

“No need for the apologies, Ma'am. It was my pleasure waiting for you.” He dismissed politely, gesturing for me to have a seat.

I did, tugging lightly at my fur coat. He ...