Chapter 5 - Dawn on the Horizon
Six months later, the trauma bay felt routine again—the hum of monitors, the sharp smell of bleach, the endless rush of midnight admissions. But inside my pocket, tucked safely in the lining of my white coat, a folded piece of crayon-drawn paper remained my anchor.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when the dispatch radio crackled at the nurses' station.
"Trauma 2, incoming pediatric transfer, minor laceration from a bicycle fall. Stable vital signs."
Clara looked up from her triage screen, caught my eye, and offered a small, knowing smile.
May you like
"Go get 'em, Dr. Jenkins," she said.
I nodded, rolling my shoulders back and stepping toward the double doors. The past was a ghost, but the future was a road waiting to be walked—and as long as I wore this coat, no child would ever be left in the dark again.
