“Your hands are going like this.” She fluttered her fingers.

I put both hands flat on the wheel at ten and two.

“Tell me the rabbit’s name.”

“It doesn’t have one.

If it has a name, they can call it.”

Twenty-two minutes on 41 with no traffic.

I did it in nineteen and parked across two spaces.

At nine the triage desk had a television on mute, four people ahead of us, and a woman behind glass who asked for an insurance card.