“Patient 507 keeps saying something about a camellia,” Dr. Eagan says.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmmNsLpzl74
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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.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJZXbGrc03W
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“It seems he’s asking for a particular one,” the doctor says, leaning over the bed.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdmRMc9Jpwk
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“Oh!” Nurse Josephine says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pressed camellia bloom he gave her. “This one?”1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEhs2UTINc5
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“No, no,” 507 says, thrashing against his restraints. “Camellia, not a camellia.”1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSR9lXwUK5h
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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.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYLQHsJTqsl
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She takes a step toward the doctor and reluctantly asks, “What shall we do?”1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoYLPQaWH0O
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“Four hundred units of insulin,” the doctor says grimly, his back rigid as he straightens up.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCeawQopHP8
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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.1009Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4KvwMMJKjn
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