“Hello, can I help you?” she asked. “Hi. I am imran.” I stuttered. “I live across, I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”“Oh...that’s so sweet, thank you, I remember seeing you earlier. My name is Fatima she said.“Fatima, nice name” I said. “Well if you need anything at all just let me know I’m right across.“Thank you, I’ll be sure to let you know.” she said.“Okay, I guess I’ll see you later, Fatima,” I said with a smile.“Bye, Imran,” she said with a cute smile. I blushed and walked. He knew, of course, she was never going to get better.She wasn't even ever going to be lucid again. Still, he cared.Some of the other staffers on the floor believed him to be alittle crazy, and the others reckoned he had too much empathy tostay in this kind of a job for too long.The dark-suited gentlemen from the funeral home visited therear of the building in their dark-panelled van, and left againwith their burden. They were intensely practical men, like thenurse, and like her they failed to. More

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