“Eyes up.”I looked up anyway.“What?”“I said eyes up.”“I’m reading the tag.”“The tag is on her toe.”I looked at the toe. There was, in fact, a tag on the toe. I looked back at Cade, who was not smiling, though something near his mouth was considering it.We were at table six, which the TA had assigned alphabetically and, I suspected, out of cruelty. The formalin smell had gotten into my hair before I’d even put on gloves. Cade had folded the sheet back to her collarbone, and my brain did something I hadn’t authorized.“Shoulder first,” Cade said. “Brachial plexus. Do you remember the order?”“Roots, trunks, divisions, cords, branches.”“Mnemonic?”“Randy Travis Drinks Cold Beer.”“That’s the one.”I picked up the probe.“Breathe,” Cade said, without looking up.“I am breathing.”“Through your nose. Not like that.”“What’s wrong with my breathing?”“You sound like a kettle.”I breathed through my nose. The room tilted anyway, politely, like it was asking permission. I put my free
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