Iraqi desert.
"Please have a seat," Dr Rogers motioned. Reluctantly Sonia took the seat opposite him.
It was the first time she entered his office. It looked like hers, just bigger, with the same governmental issued desk and chairs. No soft music to calm the nerves and no plush sofa.
There were no family photos, just like her. A few certificates from prominent universities and his master's degree in Psychiatry hung in black frames against the one wall. Shelves on the opposite side displayed medical books neatly stacked and used. His desk was clinically clean with no papers strewn around, only one open folder in plain sight. Her photo laughing at her.
"Thank you," she replied.
"How do you feel today?"
The concoction they gave her knocked her out for twelve hours. When she woke, she felt disorientated. She visited Anna first, but she slept, and Michelle confirmed she was doing all right. Her flight was booked for 14h00 hours.