They walked to the elevator bank.

I stood in the middle of the lobby holding four pages while the volunteers watched me hold them.

Upstairs, the air smelled of antiseptic and somebody’s reheated soup.

Darryl, the guard on the ICU doors, had his arms crossed and his radio turned low.

“Sir, they’ve got county paperwork,” he said, and it came out like a question.

Victoria held the pages up so he could see the seal.

“I’m her sister.