The passage of time takes on a completely different texture in different circumstances of life.
For David, time was a slow, stagnant, rusted blunt knife, each day wearing away his former sharpness and deepening the emptiness and regret in his heart.
After the disciplinary action was handed down, he tried to contact Linda, wanting to tell her about the outcome, wanting to say a belated "I'm sorry," even knowing she probably wouldn't care.
But all his letters disappeared without a trace, and his calls never went through.
Doctors Without Borders maintained strict confidentiality about their movements. He had completely lost touch with her.
For Lucy, stuck at a grassroots clinic handling trivial diagnoses and treatments, enduring the strange looks and whispered gossip of her colleagues, i
