When I open the door to the sickroom, I see Nurse Briggs standing at the dresser, measuring something.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“Not yet. I’m preparing the patient’s medicine,” Nurse Briggs says.
“Where shall I put my things?”
Nurse Briggs shrugs, so I hang my hat and shawl on a hook near the door. The bed stands in the room’s center, each leg in a saucer of water to keep white ants from creeping up. The cane lounge near the end of the bed also has saucer feet. There’s a small table by the lounge with a kerosene lamp. A soft light flickers off the walls.
I watch Nurse Briggs. “What are you giving him?”
“Cholera pills,” Nurse Briggs says.
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