Jerry Holloway pushed open the glass door of the professional building, stepping into the bustling lobby illuminated by soft fluorescent lights. He paused for a moment to take in his surroundings, wearing a navy blue polo shirt that clung just snugly enough to hint at his athletic build, paired with well-worn jeans and a comfortable pair of sneakers that hinted at his laid-back style. Mid-thirties felt like a crossroads where youthful vitality mingled with the weight of adult responsibilities, and Jerry embodied that tension perfectly.

The lobby was a hive of activity. To the right, a series of offices lined the walls, their frosted glass windows revealing busy practitioners: a chiropractor cracking the neck of a long-haired teenager, a physical therapist demonstrating stretches to a mom and her toddler. Distant laughter and playful shrieks echoed from the children’s play area adjacent to a brightly colored McDonald’s, where kids darted enthusiastically under the watchful eyes of their parents. Next to the fast-food franchise was a spacious dance studio, where mirrored walls reflected the fluid movements of a group of teenagers practicing for an upcoming recital.

Jerry had come here today for a check-up with Dr. Tannen. Before he made his way to Dr. Tannen’s office, however, Jerry remembered his plan from earlier this week. With a furtive glance around the lobby, ensuring no one was paying him any mind, he headed towards the restroom.

The hallway leading to the restrooms was quiet, the soft thud of his sneakers the only sound as he walked. Neon signs advertised various services available in the building---massage therapy, karate classes, and even a children's enrichment program---before he reached the lady's room door. It was here that he hesitated for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across his face. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

In one of the pockets of his jeans, he felt a familiar shape: a small bottle of which looked like purfume, hidden away.

Jerry sprayed himself with the purfume before entering the restroom. Although the vial contained a liquid wiht a fragrance, it wasn't perffume. Anyone who was close enough to smell the odor, which extended a great didtance, wouldn't see him as Jerry a man in his seventies, they would see him as an elderly woman and dressed to match that person.

He didn't stay in the restroom for more than a few seconds, he emerged not as Jerry Halloway but as Geri Halloway. Geri, appeared to be an elderly woman in her late seventies with silvery hair swept neatly into a soft bun. Exiting the restroom, she stood hesitantly at the threshold of the doctor's office. Her tailored taupe cardigan, adorned with delicate pearl buttons, hugged her frame, and she clutched her polished leather handbag tightly to her chest with her gloved hand. Inside the doctor's office the sun filtered through the vertical blinds, casting long stripes of light and shadow across the gleaming mahogany reception desk and the sturdy snake plants that stood like sentinels in each corner of the room.

The receptionist, a young woman with warm eyes and a name tag that read *Marissa*, looked up and immediately offered Geri a gentle smile.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Marissa said kindly. “You must be Mrs. Holloway. Please, come in. Dr. Tannen is expecting you.”

Geri nodded slightly, her expression reserved but polite, and stepped forward with small, deliberate movements. She glanced down at the floor as if weighing each footstep carefully. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and something floral---lavender, perhaps.

“Such a lovely cardigan,” Marissa added, rising slightly to assist if needed. “Very elegant.”

“Oh,” Geri said softly, with a hint of amusement in her voice, “thank you, dear. It’s older than you are, I imagine.”

A low chuckle from behind the receptionist’s window drew Geri’s eyes to Dr. Tannen, who stepped into the waiting room to greet her. He was in his fifties, with reading glasses perched low on his nose and a navy tie loosened just slightly at the collar.

“Geri,” he said warmly, “you look like a woman who’s been keeping secrets from Father Time.”