The mattress squeaked as I turned over, trying to find a comfortable position.

I didn’t sleep more than an hour.

The morning came too quickly, bringing a cold, heavy fog that hung low over the freeway.

The agent driving me to the clinic didn’t speak a word.

His jaw was set, and he wore a dark suit that looked too warm for the weather.

He kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, checking for tails at every intersection.

The windshield wipers made a rhythmic clicking sound against the glass.

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still wet and black.

We arrived at the medical building at nine-thirty.

The lobby was busy with patients, nurses in colorful scrubs, and doctors in white coats.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor, my stomach turning with every floor we passed.

The elevator smelled of wet umbrellas and cheap cologne.

My heart was hammering against my ribs.

The bell chimed as the elevator doors slid open.

The clinic reception area was bright and sterile.

The smell of antiseptic and lavender air freshener was overwhelming.