Nora’s POV
I made it to the supply closet on the second floor. Not the one on five, too close to his room, too close to the nurses' station where Marco and Sable had watched me hand a grown man the clinic's main line phone because my two-and-a-half-year-old had called to say goodnight. The second floor supply closet was around a corner, past the attendings' washrooms, the kind of space that nobody went to without a specific reason.
I went in and closed the door and stood in the dark for a second before I found the light pull and tugged it.
Fluorescent. Gauze packs on the left, IV supplies on the right, the smell of antiseptic and sealed packaging. Exactly what it was supposed to be. I leaned against the gauze shelf and I let it happen.
It wasn't grief-crying. I knew what grief-crying f
