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In Exam 2, a seven-year-old boy named Jayden was arching off the bed, face crimson. His mother, Carla, was pressed against the wall, shaking.
“Ma’am, your son could die in the next thirty minutes without it.”
“Hey, doc.” His voice was a rasp. “Didn’t wanna come back.”
The automatic doors hissed open for the seventeenth time since 7 a.m. Mira didn’t look up—she was stitching a gash on a construction worker’s forearm. The man hadn’t blinked. “Seen worse,” he’d said. Mira believed him.
“What happened, Leo?”
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In Exam 2, a seven-year-old boy named Jayden was arching off the bed, face crimson. His mother, Carla, was pressed against the wall, shaking.
“Ma’am, your son could die in the next thirty minutes without it.”
“Hey, doc.” His voice was a rasp. “Didn’t wanna come back.”
The automatic doors hissed open for the seventeenth time since 7 a.m. Mira didn’t look up—she was stitching a gash on a construction worker’s forearm. The man hadn’t blinked. “Seen worse,” he’d said. Mira believed him.
“What happened, Leo?”
