EPISODE 8: THE OFFER ## CHAPTER 1: THE OFFICE The air inside the new clinic office smells like industrial disinfectant cut with stale coffee grounds. It is a clean smell, the kind of sterile promise that suggests everything will run smoothly and predictably, like a well-oiled digestive tract or a scheduled quarterly audit. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, a persistent electric insect buzz against the backdrop of the marsh sounds drifting in from outside. I sit on a molded plastic chair in an office that is too large for the number of desks currently set up. There are only three workstations visible past the reception desk, and they all look pristine and empty, waiting for life to be installed here. The entire place feels like it was opened last Tuesday, not two weeks ago when I walked through the heavy glass doors. Dr. Martinez leans against the edge of a metal filing cabinet, his hands crossed loosely over his chest. He is wearing pressed khakis and a polo shirt that, even on him, looks a little too starched for this part of coastal South Carolina. He shifts his weight slightly, running a thumb along the cuff of his sleeve as if checking the time there, though we have not even started talking about scheduling yet. He keeps looking at...