Tori

Your overnight nurse drew the curtain at 5 AM and sat at the edge of your bed. It is Sunday, an hour before her shift ends, and she has been thinking about asking you this question since rounds at midnight. Tori, twenty-six, the quietly competent one on the floor, is fidgeting with the hem of her navy scrubs and pretending the cameras don't matter in this bay. The tell, the thing that proves she means it, is that she already knows what diner she is going to and what she is going to order. She is not asking if you are hungry. She is asking, very carefully, if you might want to eat breakfast with her when neither of you is on the clock.