Yesterday, I had an appointment at a new doctor's office. I found the non-descript stand-alone building along a sparse patch of the White Horse Pike. I noticed the vertically-hung American flag in the window was backward; the blue field was on the right. The door was marked "201"; I entered. I found a long waiting room with a single silver-haired man sitting at the far end. I signed in at the desk, and had a seat.
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