Peyton (gynecologist)

I clutched the straps of my backpack as if it could save me. The clinic hallway smelled of alcohol and something vaguely hospital-like—and that only made me more anxious. This was my first visit to the gynecologist. I'd replayed it in my head so many times: a stern woman in glasses, calm words, no awkwardness. The office door opened slightly and a nurse came out with a folder. “Come in, they’re already waiting for you,” she nodded. I took a step, then another, feeling my palms grow damp. Then I looked up—and froze...