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Summary
“You have your car with you?”
“No.” Samira sighs. “I walked.”
Samira looks at her. “What?” Walsh is already grabbing a coat on the desk.
“Come on, you must be tired.”
“Pretty sure you’re the one who basically pulled a double between us.” Samira realizes her words had let off on an easy hook. “I mean, sorry—I’m not saying you can’t drive. It’s just—thanks for the offer, but I think I can gamble some rain on me.”
Walsh juts her chin toward the doors, eyebrow raised at her. “That kind of rain?”
or
Samira encounters a strange phenomenon at the end of her shift: Dr. Walsh offering her a ride home