Nick
The heavy glass doors of the hospital main entrance swept open, letting in a gust of damp evening air.
I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders and kept walking.
After recovering, I was back to the usual.
Ten hours in the operating room meant my neck was stiff, my back ached in a quiet, deep way, and my eyes burned from the harsh lights above the table.
My vehicle sat under the soft glow of a street lamp in my reserved space near the back of the lot.
I opened it, settled into the leather seat, and fired up the engine. The engine hummed to life with a quiet, powerful growl that shook the floorboards just a bit.
I checked my watch. Seven fifteen.
I had a dinner tonight with a few senior administrators from the health system. It was an obligation, nothing more.
A chance to sit at a tablecloth, eat expensive meat I didn't care about, and pretend to laugh at jokes made by men who hadn't touched a scalpel in twenty years.
