林薇今天心情不咋地，主要是因为她那个脑门子不清的病人。 persistenceجراح her for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and all she got in return was “Tell me again how to get out of this goddamn insurance maze.”

It was ten in the morning, and already the hospital was humming with life. The usual cacophony of beeping machines, doctors shouting across the hallway, and the occasional patient groaning was all there. But today, it felt worse. Like the air was thick with something you could almost touch. A kind of stress that made your shoulders hike up towards your ears and never let go.

林薇 was making her rounds, a small tablet in one hand, a pen in the other. She stopped outside a certain cubicle, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.

“Morning, Mr. Henderson. How’re you doing today?”

The man lying in the bed—well, technically, a gurney pushed into the cubicle—mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I don’t know.” His eyes were closed, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.