After 15 minutes of waiting around, two complementary espressos, and one awkward trip to the bathroom, I’m bouncing off the walls. What could be taking so long?!

…And yet Riley looks almost pleased with herself. She smiles, “This is going well, don’t you think?”

“Uhhh, well…Apparently I’m a brain damaged trans girl at a doctor’s office, wearing only a pair of shorts and a hoodie that looks and smells like the Pillsbury Doughboy jizzed all over it. And nobody will tell me what’s going on, so what do you think?”

She gives me a sniff, “I think you smell great. The vanilla really masks the B.O. Besides, you used to smell more worse before—”