She moved efficiently, straightening the tangled sheets without making a fuss.

She smoothed out the crinkling plastic mattress cover so it wouldn’t make noise every time I moved.

She picked up my empty water cup and threw it in the trash.

She didn’t ask about the blue folder or my father or what the warming closet cost.

“I’ll be at the station all night,” she said.

“You push the red button if you need anything at all.”

“Even if it’s just another blanket,” she added.