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I’d been sitting by the reception window for hours, eyes bouncing around the room, rearranging magazines on the little table, tapping my Keds on the tiles, when the automatic doors slid open under the glowing red sign and a man walked in. His demeanour was pleasant, all things considered – corners of his mouth tucked casually into his cheeks. He paused for a moment by the doors and looked around under raised eyebrows like he was about to ask a question. When he saw the white-coated woman behind the window he bounced forward and I read a pleasant “ah” of discovery on his lips, which just now looked a little pale.

He rapped the second knuckle of his first finger a chipper three taps on the window and I imagined the woman looked up from the paperwork she was bent over. I heard the window slide open, behind me and a little to the right.

“Do you have insurance sir?” she enquired.

“Excuse me?” he said, leaning his forehead towards the opening in the wall with his neck.

“Do you have insurance sir?”

“Ahhh, yes. Yeah. Insurance. Yeah. Ahh, Blue Shield.”

“Do you have your card with you?”

“Sorry?”

“Your insurance card sir. Is it with you?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Ah, yeah, just a minute. Let me…”

I turned my head ninety degrees to watched him run a hand over his pockets until he reached for the back of his jeans, pulled out a wallet and placed it on the shallow platform under the window.

“Here it is.”

I watched a thick hand reach out of the opening in the wall and pick the card off the blue plastic counter. The man looked around a little, drumming his fingers on the surface and listened to the sound of aggressive touch-typing. The hand reached back out the window and snapped the insurance card down on to the counter.

“And what is the reason for your visit today sir?”