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A.I.M FACILITY
A ten-year-old boy with an amputated left arm, stood beside his father, his hand tightly wrapped around his as his green eyes took in the building's lobby. The boy kept looking around, his eyes wide with curiosity as he absorbed the neatness and expensive infrastructure of the building. Men dressed in formal clothing and a white coat passed by him holding clipboards or briefcases while discussing something with their partner. The boy wonder: what is this place and why are we here?
Beside him his father's friend shifted, letting go of the boy's hand, his green eye met the man's side profile as a look of annoyance strike his features. The boy's eyes glance in front of them, the line inside the quiet and modern lobby had shortened, the kids he had noticed earlier; vanished with a brunette woman wearing casual attire and the white coat everyone seems to be wearing.
What unsettled the boy was, after leaving the adults always come back without the kid and they all carry a similar yellow envelope.
"Roy." The boy called out, the man turned to face the kid with great annoyance.
"Sh, don't call me by my name. Remember what your father said."
The boy narrowed his eyes, "But I'm not sick. Why did he send me here?"
The man ran a hand over his head, stress or plain frustration being the cause of it, before he could offer him a response the secretary lady called them in.
"Mr. Herrera, we're ready for you. Just sign in here and we're all set." Mr. Herrera beamed happily, the boy staring at his fake dad with uncertainty, the man walked over to the secretary's desk and sign in some papers.
