“One more thing.

Your unit’s first call to this ward came on day eight.

The note on it says the base was looking for a next-of-kin address.”

I took the envelope and didn’t open it in the elevator.

Brenda was outside 412 with a coffee she hadn’t touched, tapping two fingers against her elbow, left, right, left.

“You want to tell me who filled out those forms?” I said.

“I want to know why you’re still on this floor.” She said it pleasantly, the way you’d compliment a haircut.