Required

Sitting in the waiting room.
Waiting.
The doors open every time someone passes in front of the sensor
cold air rushes in
and I'm hoping it kills every germ in the air.
Boy with bucket in front of him
can't be good for the environment, all that puking.
He looks about 14, pants too short around the ankles
nose too big for his face.
Looks like he might be president material some day.
Then he reaches out his hand
into the sensor zone.
Door opens.
He smiles.
To no one, but himself.
But I notice.
Not president.
Scientist.
In the back of the room, he thinks of what it would be like
if anyone listened to him.
(Hand in front of sensor again)
(Smile)
Number 43 (it's not the deli counter, its the doctor's waiting room)
I get up to check in, making sure I touch nothing.
Do you need a pen, honey?
I've brought my own.
Hand sanitizer.
Good gracious.
As I pass by the doors, I reach my hand into the sensor zone.
Smile at the boy
and put on my gloves
before I touch the door to head in.