To keep my mind off my mom, I go over all the things I saw on the ambulance, playing them like commercials in my head, short noisy bursts of color and sound. I’m too wired to sleep. When I do get sleepy, my thoughts turn to my mom, so I pinch myself awake again. At some point, sleep gets the better of me, because the next thing I know the alarm is going off. Chandra drops me off at the station after telling me that I should’ve thought to wash my uniform. I tell her it’s not a uniform. “You know what I mean.” “It’s not too bad.” The pits kind of stink, and there’s a red streak from the pasta sauce. “It’s disrespectful.” “It wasn’t my laundry day.” This is true. “I don’t care.” I would keep going, giving her a hard time, but we’re heading back into the Downtown Eastside, and the panic is back in full. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. My fingers drum on my knee, the other hand clutches the door. “You okay?” “Sure.” My voice has flattened in the space of three blocks.
