The quiet shift
Chapter One: The Quiet Between Beeps The kind of quiet that settled there didn’t feel gentle. It buzzed in the corners, in the fluorescent lights, in the way the air never really moved. I memorized every drawer, every file, every step it took to complete a round. Routine made it feel like I was in control but I never really was. Every time I walked into a room, I was waiting for something to go wrong. It was constant. Even when things were calm, I imagined them unraveling. A sudden drop in vitals. A missed dose. A patient who wouldn’t respond. I didn’t tell anyone how loud those thoughts were. I just kept moving, kept doing what needed to be done. On the outside, I looked steady. On the inside, I was always bracing. The silence got to me. The patients rarely spoke much, and when they did, it was soft, fragile. Like the whole room was whispering, even when no one said a thing. Sometimes, when I had a moment alone, I’d stand still and try to breathe but the air felt heavy. Not from any o...
