Nuygen talking with a trio of nurses. She didn’t want him to see her, so she crept along the edge of the hallway until she reached the corner. Don’t see me, she prayed. Don’t see me. Don’t see me. He didn’t. She needed to call her work and tell them that she couldn’t make it tomorrow. She was going to use her cell phone, but she knew that would be a big hospital no-no. Surely the waiting room had a public phone she could use instead. The one nurse on duty acknowledged her with a blank stare and a non-smile. “Excuse me,” Ramona said. No answer. Ramona had never seen someone look more disinterested. It made sense. If you were constantly surrounded by emergencies and death, it stood to reason that anything non-life-threatening would feel unimportant. “Ma’am?” Ramona tried again. “Is there a problem?” the nurse asked. “Yes … no. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call my work. I want to make sure—” “Don’t you have a cell phone?” the nurse asked.
