Don’t Open the Bed Seven Curtain
Language: en
It was 2:30 AM, that dead hour when the fluorescent lights of the ER observation ward seem to hum with a sickly, rhythmic vibration. Margot, one of the senior nurses, stood in front of me, her eyes rimmed with red. "Riley, please, I need you to cover the rest of my shift," she whispered, her voice trembling. "My daughter’s fever just hit 104. My husband is panicked. I have to go." I opened my mouth to say yes. In a high-pressure environment like this, we were a family. We leaned on each other. But before the word could leave my throat, a flickering line of text drifted across my field of…