She flung her bag in the backseat, removed her stethoscope from her neck, and placed it on the passenger seat. Blinking to shake off grogginess, she started the engine, then she saw a familiar-looking old man sitting in the car on her left. His hands were on the steering wheel, his cheeks wet, tears streaming from his closed eyes. Impulsively, she fumbled in her scrub pockets and pulled out some paper napkins and a pen. She scribbled it will be okay!, turned it around, held it against the window, and waited. In the distance, a vermillion sun began to rise.
Rashmi Bhopi is a physician whose night shifts are a thing of the past, as a physician and as a mom, well almost.