Chapter 22
The nights at the hospital were always different, but that night felt even heavier to Mikhail. The new nameplate at Kingsley Hospital, the new banners, the reopening festivities—all of it had turned his name into a kind of symbol for the townspeople. Posters bearing his image hung on the corridor walls, and the media was still running some of the footage from the interviews conducted earlier in the day.
But as the night deepened, the sounds of celebration slowly receded, fading against the fatigue inside. White lights burned in the patients' rooms, and the occasional soft footfall of nurses and the beep-beep of monitors blended into a familiar hospital nocturne.
Mikhail was walking down a corridor on one side of the hospital at that moment. He had a few files tucked into his
