Nick
The day ended the way it always did, with the slow, heavy quiet of the hospital after hours. I was walking down the third-floor corridor, checking off the final mental list before I could leave, when I heard them.
Two junior residents were leaning against the nurses' station, their voices low and fast in the way people talk when they think they're hiding a conversation. I kept my pace steady, eyes fixed on the chart in my hand, pretending I wasn't listening.
"I tried three different sites," one of them was saying, tapping her fingers against her travel mug. "Sold out in six minutes. Saturday was completely gone by ten. Oh my lawd, I really wanna see Vespera play."
"What about VIP?" the guy next to her asked.
She snorted. "Are you kidding? Who has that kind of money?"
"Apparently plenty of people," he replied, leaning back. "People have way more money than sense."
