“I was recently diagnosed with dyslexia and restless leg syndrome. The doctor arrived at this prognosis after my arm wouldn't stop shaking.”

“I told the doctor I broke my leg in two places. He told me to stop going to those places.”

“I swear I won’t stop until your legs are shaking and every hotel guest on this floor knows my name.”

“It’s okay. I’m—”“Fine?” Joseph chimed in. “Obviously not. You need to be checked out by a doctor.” “I am a doctor.” I rolled my eyes at him, but that didn’t deter him from his train of thought. “Not that kind of doctor.”“What is ‘that kind of doctor’ going to say when they see my shimmering pink blood, Joseph?” I changed my voice to mimic one of a concerned doctor. “I’m sorry ma’am, you appear to be suffering from a mild case of Pretty Pretty Princess syndrome. Have you ingested any magical woodland faeries recently?”

“Doctors diagnose, nurses heal, and caregivers make sense of it all.”

“When I take you, you’ll know exactly what we’re doing, what you’re feeling, and I won’t stop until your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name. -Will M.”