**DURING MY MIDNIGHT ER SHIFT, TWO STRETCHERS ROLLED IN—AND I RECOGNIZED BOTH FACES.** Midnight in the ER has a sound all its own. Monitors breathing in time. Sneakers squeaking on tile. Automatic doors hissing open to the cold. By the reception window, a tiny American flag barely moved every time someone rushed past. I was closing charts when Shandra, our charge nurse, appeared at my shoulder. Her voice stayed level. Her eyes said *move*. “Dr. Callaway. Two incoming. Man and woman. Road inciden

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