“So…you’re here for a flu shot, is zat correct?”
“U-Um…y-yeah.” You mumbled, shifting nervously in the chair as you watched Schneeplestein flip through his clipboard. He then set it down before standing up and walking over to the metal tray that contained several syringes.
As soon as you saw the long, metal needles, you gripped the armrests tighter, digging your nails deep into the fabric material. It served as your anchor, being the only thing that stopped you from getting up and sprinting out of the doctor’s office.
Today was a day you dreaded every year: getting your annual flu shot.
It was around that time of year when the nasty virus was running a muck and could leave you sick for weeks on end should you catch it, so you took it upon yourself to schedule an appointment with Schneeplestein to get a shot.
However, the only problem was that you had a severe case of trypanophobia–the fear of needles and injections to put it simply.