The cart tag carried the idea of old cleaner.
Ty knew that made no sense. The Name Office had shaped the tag from memory, paper, and whatever else the drawer used when it wanted the past to feel touchable. It should have smelled like nothing. His mind supplied sharp soap anyway, then wet rubber, then metal left too long under hospital lights.
He looked at the torn corner and kept his feet behind the boot mark.
Omina noticed and gave him the mercy of leaving it unpraised.
The tag named Lower Hold Cart 6. Pediatric overflow. Temporary transfer. Keep away from the main hall.
JJ squinted at the last instruction.
"That line has guilt wearing a pressed shirt."
Zunoder answered with the care of a man choosing a smaller word for a larger wound.
"The instruction protects patient privacy during movement only."
"Privacy can carry guilt when it gets dressed properly."
Omina circled temporary transfer with the end of her hilt.
