And then I was hit by a wave of nausea.

It wasn’t a joke.

It was just a mean note.

Sickened, I crumpled it up and shoved it into my purse. I don’t know why I put it in my purse but I was suddenly and deeply ashamed.

My car was on the white line, on the passenger side. Normally I park exactly between the painted lines, but when I pulled in the car on my left was a little bit over, and so I parked and dashed into the store.

Driving back to the office, I mentally reviewed my parking job. I was on the line. I probably was parked too close to the car on my right. But I wasn’t over the line. And the car on my left was crowding me. My car isn’t a big car. It’s not as if I drive a big SUV. I slid out of my driver side without dinging the car next to me.

Maybe I shouldn’t have parked there.

Maybe I should have kept looking for a spot.

I’m still obsessing—rationalizing—my choices as I reach the office. I can’t let it go. I don’t know why I have to defend myself. The person who wrote the note was rude. It was a rude note by a rude person. Let it go.

I try.

I try as I park—carefully.

I try as I enter the modern marble and glass building with the tinted windows and open the door to Morris Dental & Associates, catching a whiff of the distinctive smell unique to dentist offices. The odor wafts from the back. It’s a mix of chemicals. Formo-creasol. Cresatin. Eugenol. Acrylic Monomer.

Oh, and teeth.

The office is cold, chilled to sixty-seven degrees, the temperature Dr. Morris prefers for his own comfort. He doesn’t like being warm when he works. His hands are steadier, his concentration better, when it’s cool, and it is his office.

Normally I don’t smell the chemicals but I do now. Maybe it’s the shock of the note, a shock I can’t shake.

I’m still unsettled as I open my yogurt in the staff room. But I can’t take a bite. Instead I hold my yogurt and spoon and stand at the window staring out at the taupe and gold Camelback Mountain.

Learn to park. Asshole.

“Dr. McAdams, you’ve a patient in exam room three,” Natalie, one of the practice’s two dental assistants, announces from the staff room door.

I thank her and put the yogurt back into the refrigerator. My legs feel funny as I walk.