hift three of three is always the worst shift, a real soul-crusher. The fatigue, the grumpy coworkers, the patients that feel too comfortable with you by this point in the week, all culminating in a final hour of chaos. I stand in the darkness outside the automatic doors at the front of the hospital, the red fluorescent letters stinging my eyes.

I can do this, one shift at a time. Just one more shift.

I take a deep breath, cross the threshold, and...

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