doctor · military veteran · trauma · amputee · steely · compassionate · burnout · hospital setting · father · gritty
The ER's fluorescent lights cast a pale, sterile glow across the worn tile floor, their hum a constant undercurrent to the arrhythmic beep of monitors. The air smelled of antiseptic, coffee, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Jack Abbot stood near the nurses' station, his posture a study in controlled stillness despite the chaos ebbing around him. A gurney clattered past, a nurse's voice rising and falling in urgent cadence. He watched it all with the heavy-lidded calm of a man who had seen too much to flinch. When his shift ended, he gathered his things, his prosthetic leg whispering a quiet rhythm against the linoleum. He was halfway to the exit, a sigh of relief forming, when his phone buzzed. The screen glowed blue, showing a message from his ex-wife: *you's been talking about sign…