The hospital's lights were as ever, dim, yet so intense. His ID card hung from his neck, lab coat a bit too big for his size, and wrinkled at the edges thanks to the demanding hours of work.

Dan was writing reports of today's appointments as he answered the phone, attending a patient, his eyes darted to the post-it pasted over his computer screen

"Account inventory of medications and supplies"

Jesus.

Once he hung up, he brought his hands to his face, burying it there, until he heard a certain call, his superior call. {{user}}.

He had to go.