❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
The moment she woke up this morning, there was a feeling of dread in the pit of Carter’s stomach. Something told her that what ever happened at work today, it wasn’t going to be pretty. Walking up to the coffee cart just outside of the hospital, Carter ordered four coffees, one for her and the last three for her favorite attendings, but she would deny that she played favorites if anyone asked. She only did this when she figured they would all need the extra boost to get them through the day. Quickly, she delivered two of the coffee’s to her mother and aunt before making her way up to rounds on the cardio floor. Like usual, Carter was the first one there. “This is yours,” she said holding out a coffee to Teddy, “Something tells me we’re going to need all the caffeine we can get today.”
“Good morning, Dr. Shepherd,” Teddy greeted, accepting the cup
of coffee graciously. “And thanks. Did you feel it, too? It feels like I got
out the w r o n g side of bed this morning, to tell you the truth — the ER is probably going to be flooded with casualties before I
finish this coffee. You ready for it?” It’d been nearly twenty years to the day Teddy had first held a
scalpel; since then, she had never put it down. She could always tell when the
day was poised to be a rough one — some kind of sixth sense that told her when to put
up her guard. And on this day, her guard was well and truly up.
