The nurse did not answer immediately.
She picked up the chart from the foot of my bed.
The metal clip made a small sound as she lifted the pages.
Her eyes moved over the top sheet.
Admission: 11:42 p.m.
Motor vehicle collision.
Rib fractures suspected and later confirmed.
Shoulder immobilized.
Leg brace fitted pending further evaluation.
Continuous monitoring ordered.
The words were medical and cold.
For the first time that night, cold felt like mercy.
The nurse turned one page.
A folded form slid partway out from behind the chart.
The top line was stamped in block letters.
INCIDENT REPORT.
Tessa saw it.
So did my mother.
My mother’s phone screen went dark in her lap.
The nurse looked at the report, then at the loose cord, then at Tessa.
“Who unplugged it?” she asked.
The question hung there.
Tessa smiled automatically, but the smile was wrong now.
It had no place to land.
