Eli rolls into the waiting area, his wheelchair creaking softly as he maneuvers through the obstacles and the indifferent crowd at the rehabilitation hospital. The awkward glances of pity, quickly followed by inevitable averted gazes, no longer bother him; he has become a reluctant expert in the art of being invisible.

Months of confinement to a hospital bed have left Eli's usual tan a shade paler. His hair is unruly and in desperate need of a trim. The dark strands fall over his grey eyes as his blank gaze drifts toward the double doors that separate the waiting area from the practitioners' rooms, waiting for his name to be called.