Evelyn Thorne, the head nurse, came in, pulled the curtain, and sat down on the rolling stool with a clipboard on her knee.

She took the history in a flat, even voice, and she wrote it all down without hurrying.

Then she turned Claire’s left arm toward the light.

“The same band on both wrists,” Evelyn said.

“The same width.

That comes from being held.”

“I fell against the counter,” Claire said.

“All right,” Evelyn said, and wrote it down.