Say, What's Your Name?

I accompanied my mother to the radiologist's the other day, only to find myself staring lazily around the room. The office felt like a senior citizen's home had been raided, doused in a whirlwind of macabre, potpourri, and flowery wallpaper. The variations of floral decor gave it a homely feel, but the sterile quietness let it retain the doctorish vibe. I thought it was a good compromise.
I didn't think I looked particularly approachable just sitting there, but apparently others did. The bell over the door rang and a grandmother, man and his daughter walked in. The young girl maybe 7 or 8 was bouncy and vivacious. She was missing her two front teeth and her hair was pulled into two pigtails.
Her father introduced her to me as Mistina, but to call her Misty.
Being polite I introduced myself, almost telling them a different name just for the fun of it. I imagined myself being Abigail for a day, or maybe Claudia. That could make things interesting.