SchoolForLooneys

-Chapter 7: What makes us smile- "Well, you see, doc... we don't know what's wrong with her." My father addressed the lean man in a white coat in usual laid back tone. There was a hint of anxiety in his voice. The doctor nodded as he continued to listen. My mother casually sat in her seat with a tensed expression, twiddling her thumbs in anticipation and uneasiness. "I see," the doctor said, standing up from his leather chair to get a better look at me. He smiled gently. "Don't worry, little lady. We'll find out what you're Problem is." Problem. I heard that word countless times. Even today I still hear it. People say there is something wrong