finished the horse book, then another, then started a third.
One evening, Angela came after her shift, still in scrubs, and left something outside our lodging room.
A glass casserole dish with a blue lid, still warm.
A note was rubber-banded to the top.
From the floor staff.
I learned later there was no floor staff fund.
There was Angela.
Her kitchen.
Her groceries.
Her Sunday.
We ate warm food at the little table while the boys joined us on video.
It was the first meal someone had made for
