on reactions. Tears, shouting, the silent treatment — anything he could put in his pocket and bring out later as proof that I was not well.
Medicine teaches you the opposite. You keep your hands still while a family comes apart in front of you.
He glanced at the badge. “Still working too much?”
I nearly laughed, because that accusation has outlived the marriage.
“I like my job.”
“Oh, I know you do.”
The corridor had gone quiet in the particular way corridors do.
And then he stepped round so that
