I had gone back inside the building after parking my car in a different lot three blocks away, unable to bring myself to drive home immediately.

I sat in the corner of the basement cafeteria with Julie, my supervisor, surrounded by three stacks of surgical intake files that needed sorting before the morning shift.

The only sound was the low hum of the vending machines and the occasional squeak of a cart on the linoleum outside.

“We have four knee replacements scheduled for room three tomorrow,” Julie said, sliding a blue folder toward me.

“Did the clearance forms come through from Dr.