“Patient 507 keeps saying something about a camellia,” Dr. Eagan says.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMdLvKGPFlT
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“He’s growing camellias in the garden,” Nurse Josephine says quickly, hoping the explanation will allow Dr. Eagan to leave without giving Patient 507 and injection.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvwU08NRhkx
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“It seems he’s asking for a particular one,” the doctor says, leaning over the bed.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX7qTcdDymD
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“Oh!” Nurse Josephine says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pressed camellia bloom he gave her. “This one?”811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfMOwFVGdAf
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“No, no,” 507 says, thrashing against his restraints. “Camellia, not a camellia.”811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhWo5DWGUyU
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Nurse Josephine thinks about him running to her in the middle of the night. In her sleepy haze, her heart fluttered like hundreds of tiny moths brushing their wings against her ribcage. He was the flame they sought. But he just kept saying he needed to find a camellia.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZJsNUcmw7K
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She takes a step toward the doctor and reluctantly asks, “What shall we do?”811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEbEcNLZSDT
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“Four hundred units of insulin,” the doctor says grimly, his back rigid as he straightens up.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjWH7auKuDJ
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She fights to keep her face calm and expressionless. She nods slightly and gets the needle ready, trying to imagine him as just another nameless, faceless patient, not the man who gave her the flower.811Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBOWmXwyWrr
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