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were pushing what looked like a casket on wheels into my room.
    When I tried to lift my head to see better, a sunbeam zapped me in the eye, so I went back down. The men shifted, scraped against the wooden frame of the threshold, grunted incoherent things. I was too groggy to ascertain the current situation, so I gave the left side of my face a small slap. The unfortunate thing was that I had forgotten about my bruise from the night before. White pain shot through my head. I jerked toward the window. Then white light went into my eyes, and it felt like a corneal stabbing. After that, my whole body recoiled and I snapped into the fetal position, trying not to think about how much that pose sucked for my lungs. They seemed the size and consistency of prunes. Throughout all this I said nothing to the men or to you, but I remember thinking, “Oh, fuck me” to the pain.
    I heard wheels roll across the floor and Voice One say, “Let’s get him parallel to the bed, and then I’ll get his torso and you get his legs. Back up a little, the stretcher’s going to catch on—” I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. “Mike, we need to make the turn wider, so back it up a little.”
    â€œAll I have to say is, who knows what else can go wrong? I’ll tell you now that it wouldn’t surprise me if something did; that’s not me being pessimistic, and I’m prepared for, for . . . everything bad,” said Voice Two. You.
    â€œDo you want me to go around? I can come around on the other side and put my arms out like a second barrier.”
    I knew that was Sarah, but didn’t know where she’d come from.
    â€œYou could do that, why not?” added Voice Three.
    â€œSo, where do you guys hang out after your shift, anyway?” Sarah asked.
    â€œWell, we either go home and sleep or we go to Dunkin’ Donuts.”
    â€œOh, the one on Thayer?”
    â€œSometimes, I guess. There’s three hundred billion of them. We just pick one.”
    â€œWell, I’m really hungry this morning. Are you guys hungry? Do you want to go get doughnuts? Doughnut holes?”
    My external pain was draining, so I uncurled myself and rolled to face the bed where the sound came from. It was in the shadow of the opposite wall.
    That’s when I saw you for the first time—in profile, from the left. My first thought about your face was that your eyes were set so deep that they made your nose look like a rebel for sailing out like that. Next I noticed the dimple in the middle of your chin, which is definitely a dimple and not a cleft. I thought you looked like you’d been shot with a BB gun there. The night of beating and snow had left long pieces of your hair plastered across your forehead. And before I even noticed the braces around your knees, I knew you were unfamiliar with the world of the sick. I had this quick flash where I pictured myself initiating you, sticking twenty rectal thermometers in at once.
    That was as far as I got with the fantasy because suddenly, you turned your head and noticed me back.

Chapter 7
    From The Desk of Chester Hunter III
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    Shit, El, the first time we met you gave me the kind of stare that I imagine biologists use when looking into a microscope at a fresh strain of flu. You seemed vaguely interested but in no way concerned for my health, and definitely, definitely in no way threatened.
    You were studying me, and that made me feel bold enough to study you back. You didn’t look too unhealthy apart from the shiner on your temple, but I guess I knew that something must be seriously wrong with you because you were staring at me like I’d walked into your backyard and started building a mansion.
    Or, I guess that doesn’t even cut it, doesn’t even begin to describe how instantly nervous I was in your presence. This is closer, though: it was like you were an old-timer, a regular who drank Guinness, and I was this