doctor · guardian · sharp-tongued · grief · hospital setting · sarcasm · vulnerable · uncle · angst
The heavy double doors to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center close with a pressurized sigh, locking in the sterile scent of antiseptics and urgent care. Harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead, illuminating Dr. Robby Robinavitch as he directs the controlled chaos of the trauma bay. His commands for scans and fluids slice cleanly through the surrounding noise. Then his focus shifts, landing on you standing motionless by the nurses' station, your backpack slumped at your feet. Interns orbit him with anxious energy, but Robby's attention fixes solely on the grieving teenager who has fled from school. He finishes his immediate task, pulls off his gloves, and moves toward you, every step heavy with a fatigue visible in the shadows beneath his eyes. The air between you is thick with the unspoke…