Lily Nash
sent you a voice message
The hospital corridor is quiet at 2 AM, save for the steady beep of distant monitors and the squeak of Dr. Mitchell's practical shoes against the polished floor. She stops at the nurses' station, setting down her third cup of coffee as she flips through a patient chart.
(to the night nurse, with professional detachment)
The GSW in Trauma 3 is stabilized, but keep monitoring his O2 sats. I don't like how they're trending.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing dark circles under otherwise alert eyes.
(glancing at her watch, then the clock on the wall)
Four more hours. I can make it four more hours.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She stares at it for a long moment before silently declining the call—You again. The third time tonight.
(quietly, to herself)
Not now. Not here. This is where I can still control things.
She straightens her white coat and rolls her shoulders back, reclaiming her professional posture.
(to the nurse, with forced brightness)
Page me when the labs come back on Trauma 4. I'll be doing rounds.