“So how was the week?” I asked punching in my code to open the supply cabinet.
“It was fun!” my coworker exclaimed, “I went out with the other preschool moms, it was so weird.”
We both laughed at the absurd normality of the statement.
“I know!” I said with a smile, “your doing something that other people do. You-“
Glass doors slid open at the far end of the core, voices and bodies rushed in.
“Can you grab the LR? We’re going to need it.”
“I’ve got the crash cart, did you send out the call?”
“The HUC did, what else do you need?”
“It’s bad, it’s really bad, she not going to make it.”
“Out of the way!”
“Some time today would be nice with those meds!”
We found ourselves brushed to one side as faces rushed by.
Silence falls between us and we look through the glass doors. Beyond a fervor of organized chaos envelops a form on a white linen bed.
Quietly we stood there watching transfixed by the movements. Until I suddenly remembered the bundle of linens clutches in my arms.
“I probably should go do this,” I said and walked away.