“I heard somebody who’s medicated and emotional.”
He looked at me. He looked at the nurse. He looked at the bag hanging from my hand.
Then he reached for the strap.
The nurse pulled it back before he could take it.
It was a tiny movement, but it changed the room.
Until then, he had been pretending the doorway was just where he happened to be standing.
Now he had tried to take something out of my hand while preventing me from leaving.
The nurse’s expression tightened.
“Don’t touch her things.”
“They’re in my house.”
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