Consequences and Clarity
A supervisor was waiting. “Mr. Murphy, you left your area—”
“Write me up,” Dale said, worn thin but steady. “I’m not long for this world anyway.”
“The child?” the supervisor asked, glancing toward pediatrics.
“Sleeping,” Nurse Patricia answered. “For the first time in three days.”
“How did—” the supervisor began.
“He held him,” Patricia said, almost smiling. “And made the sound.”
Back in bed, Dale kept talking about the boy. “You should’ve seen him. So small. So scared. And I helped.”
Repo squeezed his shoulder. “You’ve been feeling like you don’t matter anymore.”
“Yeah,” Dale admitted. “But today? Today I mattered.”
