The window in the door swung shut, and the ward went quiet again.

Elisa came across the parking lot at half past one.

She had her coat open and her phone in her hand.

The wind pulled at her hair, and she smoothed it back with her palm.

“You’re still here,” she said.

“Marcus said you’d leave.”

“He’s got a judge.”

“He’s got a lawyer.” She stopped in front of me.