The Night Shift That Never Really Ends
At 2:17 a.m., Lillian Harper looked up from the chart in her hands to the clock above the neonatal station, noticing how the second hand seemed to drag on as if even time itself had grown weary of the hour, while the muffled hum of the fluorescent lights and the steady rhythm of the monitors blended into a kind of mechanical lullaby that never truly allowed anyone to relax.
