BetrayStoriesThe Bedhopper's Name
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I never thought I’d be grateful for a cancelled meeting, but that Wednesday afternoon, my client’s last-minute rescheduling gave me an hour to kill in the doctors’ lounge at St. Jude’s. I worked as a freelance graphic designer, and the hospital was revamping their patient education materials. The lounge was empty except for three physicians in scrubs, huddled around a low table, laughing too loudly. I settled into a corner chair, laptop open, pretending to work as their conversation washed over me.
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