She sat in the visitor’s room and watched the surgeon step out of the elevator. He wore a blue turban and a serious expression. He marched onto the ward, flanked by a posse of white coated underlings. Hana lost hope in the hour he spent walking through the ward, knowing she’d need to rely on Logan for second hand information. She tried and failed to bury the sense that things were worse than he acknowledged. A long while later, Hana watched the surgeon and his entourage head back towards the elevator. On a whim fuelled by exhaustion and annoyance, she ran after them.
“I refuse to discuss my patients in the corridor!” Mr Singh raised his voice and Hana blanched. She swallowed and forced out her words, indicating backwards with her outstretched hand.
“Then sit with me in the television roo
