He spent a full minute looking at the final sum.

“We’re going downstairs,” Richard said to Linda.

He didn’t look at me before he walked out the door.

A transport orderly wheeled me down to the administrative wing at one o’clock.

The hallway smelled strongly of harsh chemical floor cleaner and stale hospital coffee.

My parents walked ten paces ahead of my wheelchair the whole way.

Linda held her leather purse tightly under her arm, as if someone might try to steal it.

Richard held his phone in one hand and the thick blue folder in the other.