He texted like a friend, because he was one, more or less. He asked how her shifts had gone and remembered that the Tuesday charge nurse was a problem. He never pushed, never counted out loud, and once told her to skip the night, she sounded wrecked. She described him to her sister as a guy from work, which was nearly true.

In February a happy birthday came through at 12:04 a.m. It was the third she received, after her mother and an automated one from her credit union. She had been awake, and she had been waiting to see whether he would. She told herself it was good business on his part. Then she read it again in the morning, before getting up.