I made an effort to maintain a polite tone of voice.
“I’m fine, Raymond.”
“You know, I used to visit Aunt Margaret very often before she passed away. I helped her with her finances and personal affairs. Family must take care of family.”
Something about the way he said it made my coffee suddenly taste bitter.
“That was very kind of you,” I replied. “But I have to get ready for work.”
I ended the call before I could ask anything else.
The hospital smelled of disinfectant, medicine, and the silent anxiety that seemed to permanently inhabit its walls.
That morning, I pushed my cart down the long corridor, checking the room numbers and the patients’ medical records.
I was already exhausted, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.
Room 220.
A new patient had been admitted for long-term care.
I opened the door, went inside, and glanced at the chart.