There were at least fifty people waiting in the room. A woman was trying to calm her wailing little boy. An older man sitting on a chair was leaning against his wife, his face white as chalk, his eyelids fluttering. She whispered something to him over and over and stroked his cheek. Another woman was lying in her chair, her head tilted back, her skin waxen, one arm raised to chest height, the end of it a stump of once-white gauze drenched in blood under which there had to be a hand. Manzano looked away. He stared at the wall instead.
Study: where there s no doctor
