“Ah. I hear you on that.” I liked her a little more than I had, hearing that. I peered at the bag.

“We have other things, like the animal balls. Let’s see… beetle, ick, the bird, the snake, the lion—”

“Lion,” I said.

“Do you want to check the bag? There are others.”

“The lion would be great, thank you,” I said. “I had a childhood toy that was a lion.”

“Perfect,” she proclaimed, while retrieving the lion. It was just a head, with two black dots for eyes, no mouth, and the mane taking up three quarters of it, with ears poking up on top. “Your therapy partner for when you’re not with me. Treat each other well.”

There was a part of me that felt like she was treating me like a kid, but that might have been her usual demeanor. I could have rankled at it or said something, and I didn’t. Another part of me that felt very tired, and that part of me welcomed having a stress doll that reminded me of the stuffed toy I’d loved to the point it had looked monstrous. That tired part of me almost welcomed the cheer and the being taken care of.

Picking my sling was a little less interesting than picking the stress ball. I tried on two and went with the most comfortable, holding it instead of putting it on. I said my farewell to Anne Lynn and walked past others who were in the midst of their own exercises at parallel bars, benches, and weight machines.

One woman with tan skin, black and gray exercise clothing and her hair in a bun was at the weight machines. She gave me a nasty look. I had no idea who she might be.

I dropped my stuff off at my locker, then made use of the shower that was adjacent to the therapy area. It wasn’t that I’d worked up a serious sweat, but I hadn’t slept well, and so I’d flown around before my appointment, checking that all was well.

All wasn’t well.

Rinsing off gave me a chance to refresh myself, resetting to zero, and it allowed me to change my clothes. What I wore for a doctor’s appointment and preliminary therapy session wasn’t going to serve for the rest of the day. Once I’d dried off, I put on a top with a collar that had a fine gold zipper instead of buttons, chosen because it was easy to put on with an injured arm. I pulled on a pair of olive slacks that served as good all-purpose pants. The pants proved to be less of a stellar choice with two stubborn buttons that needed doing up, but they were business casual and they’d survive if a fight broke out, which I wasn’t quite ruling out.