Chapter 9. Baby Adila

Bushra reached the double glass doors with metal handles. She pulled her eyes from the highly polished linoleum floor to catch a glimpse of the hallway that stretched beyond and cut into tiny squares by the thin wire in the window panels. Without pause, she pushed with her body weight, but she needn’t have to; it swung open soundlessly and with ease. A draft of air hit her face, warm and with a tincture of bleach.

The hospital hallway was like something out of Star Trek. Everything that could shine did shine. There was stainless steel, sleek floors, and the art on the walls were all natural images in colors as bright as glacier meltwater or spring flowers. The air had a pure fragrance, not sterile, just clean. In the background played music at just the right level to give the patients and staff an emotional lift. But the best part was the ceiling, just clear and high-arched. It was like standing out in the open without the risk of rain.

She walked ahead, and every few se