The Smell of a Hard Shift
“Beth, I’m sorry.
The secrecy, the changing clothes in the driveway — I thought you were with someone else.”
She peeked through her fingers, her breath still hitching.
There was one piece I still couldn’t place, and I needed it before I could breathe.
“The bag under your seat,” I said, stopping an arm’s length from her.
“I found your scrubs.