Post Call Breakfast.
"There are perks to being the clerk. I am the resident; you are the student; so breakfast is on me."
We were both tired. It had been a long night; sleep was on both our minds as we debriefed on the night’s curious cases.
Time has a funny way of speeding up and slowing down while we are on call: I had ended up eating dinner at two o’clock in the morning, I slept at four, and now we sat for breakfast in a silent and empty cafeteria at seven.
Surprisingly or unsurprisingly the sandwich was delicious. Maybe it was due in part to the culinary skills of the lady who made it, or maybe it was because it was the end of another long shift, and any indulgence surged our dopamine receptors.
To what proportion were their contributions? Who knows.