Rachel walked in at nine o’clock in dark blue scrubs.

She carried a plastic grocery bag and a large white foam cup.

“I just finished a double shift on the surgical floor,” she said.

She pressed her palm against the window glass to check the room temperature.

“They told me they started the state protocol this afternoon.”

She set the foam cup on my tray table next to Evelyn’s manila folder.

“Crushed ice and ginger ale,” she said.