“Her coffee,” he said, holding out a twenty-dollar bill. “And whatever hot food you’ve got that can travel.”
Emily turned sharply. “No… you don’t have to do that,” she said, shaking.
He looked at her steadily, eyes calm. “My wife spent twelve days in ICU last winter. I don’t remember all the doctors or machines. But I remember the nurse who stayed when I had to leave. The nurse who held her hand when she was scared. She told me… people always thank the surgeons, but nobody notices the ones who keep watch when the rest of us fall apart.”
Emily’s lips quivered. “I’m so tired,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said softly. “That’s why I’m paying.”
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