“Patient 507 keeps saying something about a camellia,” Dr. Eagan says.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpPdHBtMEPR
816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6av8AE98Yn
“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.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJrUDK2DPQt
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“It seems he’s asking for a particular one,” the doctor says, leaning over the bed.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHVW4E2smmj
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“Oh!” Nurse Josephine says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the pressed camellia bloom he gave her. “This one?”816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB89e0fCtIe
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“No, no,” 507 says, thrashing against his restraints. “Camellia, not a camellia.”816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPHGgUEZfHC
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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.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiTlU1iWd3q
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She takes a step toward the doctor and reluctantly asks, “What shall we do?”816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn0GvGhAD5x
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“Four hundred units of insulin,” the doctor says grimly, his back rigid as he straightens up.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxw8XHspdkk
816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGoUc1xeACT
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.816Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCa0SOdvqmP
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