There is movement, people moving. A stretcher. They are bent over the driver side door of his car. A doctor runs past him, a doctor he has had lunch with, a doctor he has negotiated salary with.

He could have been pickier. As they wheel her past he follows and reads the words written onto her jeans with black marker: Nasty. Cream Dream. Wet and Ready. He thinks of the small candy hearts that show up around Valentine’s Day. Near her crotch are the words: Funky Town.

She is so thin. He notices that her hair has probably not been washed recently. Her clothes are dirty. He’d thought she was pretty but as he looks at her now he can’t remember why. The doctor is speaking calmly to the nurses as they move her from the stretcher. In a few minutes they will know everything that is wrong with her. He is surrounded by machines and equipment and he knows how much everything costs.

“Do you know her, Ed?” asks the doctor.

He is struck by how easy the question is to answer. He hesitates.