We’re on the fifth floor of a mid-rise comprised entirely of doctors’ offices. And we’re the only interior suite, meaning zero windows. I’m unsure if Kimberly likes it this way, a distraction-free space for delivering care. Or if she simply made the mistake of having ovaries on a floor with no fewer than twelve sets of hetero testicles. Swinging to and fro in shriveled scrotums beneath Saint Laurent slacks. Hoarding all the windows for their own private practices.
