The only sound in the hallway was the distant, sterile hum of hospital equipment.
At the nurse’s station, a tall woman with graying hair was writing on a clipboard. Her badge read Nurse Higgins.
“I am John,” I said. “Tessa’s husband.”
She stopped writing and looked up, her expression changing from professional focus to something softer.
“We were hoping you would get here soon,” she said.
“How is she?” I asked.
“She is stable,” Nurse Higgins said. “But she is sleeping right now. The doctor wants her to rest as much as possible tonight.”
She reached under the counter and pulled out a clear plastic personal effects bag.
“We had to take these off when she was admitted,” she said, setting the bag on the counter.
Inside the plastic, I could see Tessa’s gray fleece jacket resting on top of a faded green wool blanket, her leather key chain, and her small silver earrings.
“We took her jewelry off for the scans,” the nurse said gently.
