Doctor Natasha was the one assigned to handle my checkup.
She had a calm presence about her. There was nothing overly comforting, but not cold either. The kind of person who had probably seen too many injured bodies and broken minds to be easily shaken, yet still carried herself with professionalism that didn't feel hollow. She asked me to sit down, then leaned closer, gently lifting my chin as she examined my eyes. Her fingers were steady, practiced, and impersonal.
"Look left. Now right," she said.
I followed her instructions as she peered into my eyes, her gaze sharp and observant. After that, she moved on to some light physical tests, starting by checking my reflexes, my balance, and my response time. Nothing too invasive, just enough to see if anything was off.
Once she was done with that, her questions shifted.
