The hospital across the street never really slept. Even at 9:45 p.m., when I was counting down the last fifteen minutes of my shift, the emergency room lights glowed harsh and steady through our front windows. Ambulances came and went like clockwork. Families paced on the sidewalk. Some cried. Some stared blankly at nothing. I worked the evening shift at a small convenience store wedged between a pharmacy and a coffee shop. We sold snacks, magazines, cheap jewelry—and, for some reason, a narrow aisle of discounted perfumes near the back wall. That’s where I first saw her. She couldn’t have...
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