“Check his left side,” she says. “The one he hides.”
Then she is gone.
The room is still again.
For a long second you remain standing there with the little plastic bottle in your grip, your anger burning hot enough to cover the chill creeping into your chest. The nurse has already disappeared into the corridor with the girl, likely muttering apologies, perhaps calling security, perhaps not. You tell yourself none of it matters. Poor children wander. Staff get careless. Religious nonsense leaks into places where it does not belong. None of that changes what Dr. Salgado told you.
Five days. Maybe a week.
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