I had tried one earlier, and it tasted like burned aluminum.

The vending machine area sat at the far end of the ward, glowing with harsh white light against the dark floor tile.

Patricia was already there, feeding crisp dollar bills into a slot.

She pressed a bright red selection button.

A plastic bottle of water rolled into the metal tray at the bottom with a loud clatter.

“Did you give her something yesterday?” I asked.

Patricia bent down and picked up the bottle.