I parked three rows back.
I watched Charlie open his trunk and lift out several bags and a large cardboard box. He carried them through the main entrance with the ease of someone who had done this before — not tentatively, not like a visitor, but like someone who knew exactly where he was going and who was expecting him.
I followed him inside.
The lobby was quiet in the way hospital lobbies are quiet in the early evening — not empty, just operating at a different frequency. Charlie nodded to the woman at the information desk. She smiled back at him with the warm recognition of someone greeting a regular. She pointed him toward the far wing.
He went into a supply room and pulled the door almost shut behind him.
I looked through the narrow window.
