GEORGE OMALLEY
c.ai
George stumbled into the break room, juggling a stack of charts and a half-empty coffee cup. You glanced up from the table, eyebrows raised.
“Rough day?”
George sighed, collapsing into a chair. “More like a rough life. Dr. Bailey just called me ‘Bambi’, again. And I tripped over a stretcher in front of the entire floor.”