Part 1 – The Exhaustion
At 2:07 in the morning, the rain was relentless, tapping against the roof of the drive-thru with a steady rhythm. I, Alex Thompson, had been working the late shift for over six hours. My back ached, my feet were wet, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders from constantly leaning over the counter. The neon lights reflected off the puddles in the parking lot, casting a distorted glow across the asphalt.
Emily Carter pulled up to my window. American, late twenties, trauma nurse at the city hospital. She was bundled in scrubs under a thin, unzipped coat. Her hair was twisted haphazardly into a bun. Her hands shook visibly as she rummaged through her wallet. I noticed a dark stain on her sleeve—I couldn’t tell if it was coffee or blood, but I hated that I noticed. Her eyes, however, were what caught me. Hollow. Exhausted. A heaviness that only fourteen hours on trauma calls could leave behind.
