“Are you related to her?” one paramedic asked.
“No,” Megan replied. “I found her like this and stayed with her.”
When the stretcher was lifted into the ambulance, Harper whispered, “Mom, can we go now?”
Megan checked the time again and felt her heart sink. It was 9:52, and she knew the hospital did not reschedule interviews.
There was no point in running across the city. She stayed kneeling for a moment longer, as if standing would make the loss official.
“Did you lose the job?” Harper asked quietly as they walked toward the train station.
“I do not know yet,” Megan answered. “But we did the right thing, and that matters.”
On the crowded train ride back home, strangers stared at the bloodstains on Megan’s uniform. She ignored their looks and kept her arm around Harper, staring at the city rushing by the windows.
That night, after Harper fell asleep, Megan checked her email on her cracked phone screen. There were no new messages, no missed calls, and no explanation.