CALEB

The main lobby was busier than I expected. People moved between the entrance and the elevators carrying flowers or plastic bags. A boy sat near the far wall, kicking his heels against his chair while his mother spoke into her phone.

The layout was familiar. The smell of antiseptic, the cold waiting area, receptionists answering the same questions they had probably heard all afternoon. I worked in a building just like this, and I knew how things operated.

Walking in and asking about a patient’s family member didn’t mean anyone was obligated to tell me anything. But Nora spent enough time here for someone at the information desk to...