Talk to nice sleep.

What's wrong?

The nurse asked the doctor as the man sat on a stool, positioned and ready to receive the baby that was about to be born.

How's the mother?

The doctor asked the nurse, ignoring the question that shouldn't have been asked in the first place.

You never asked what was wrong in the delivery room.

You made eye contact, you whispered low.

You did your job without alarming the mother.

Blood pressure is good. Everything is tipped up, a different nurse said.

The first nurse bent low, trying to see what the doctor was worried about.

She'd worked with him on dozens of births.

She knew the man's tics and habits.

No, she shouldn't have asked him directly what was wrong, but by the look on his face,

the nurse could tell there was something awful happening or about to happen.

What is that? The nurse asked. Her voice hushed. Her tone more than worried. She was

downright terrified at what she saw.

Some sort of discharge, the doctor replied.

Hand me a swab.

The nurse passed the doctor a swab, and he took a sample of the black goo that was oozing

out of the mother, then handed the swab back to the nurse.

The nurse placed the swab in a tube and carefully labeled it with the mother's name and birthday.

She also wrote Baby Salim on the tube, using the mother's last name to indicate the child's identity,

...