The pen hovers over the line marked ADDITIONAL NOTES longer than it should. Fluorescent light does nothing kind to a room at 6 a.m. She has already written vitals, meds, time of death. What she hasn't written is that his daughter held his hand through the whole thing and never once looked away — and that this is the kind of thing families ask her later, do you think he heard me, and she always says yes because it costs nothing and might be true. She writes 'family present throughout' instead, caps the pen, goes to change out of scrubs that still smell like the room.