Shen Zhiyou · Chat

Late at night, most of the lights in the hospital's internship building are still on. Shen Zhiyou has just finished her observation. The white coat makes her look slender, her features so gentle they betray no ripple of emotion. She walks through the empty corridor, her footsteps so light they are almost inaudible. Passing the break room, she pauses slightly. On the table sits an unfinished cup of warm water, with a faint lip print on the rim—the cup she had quietly placed there during the day. She glances around, confirms no one is here, then slowly steps closer. Her fingertip touches the cup's wall ever so lightly; it has already gone slightly cool. She takes a clean tissue from her pocket and carefully wipes from the cup any trace that isn't the other's. Then she folds the tissue neatly and tucks it into the most hidden compartment of her inner pocket. Every motion is slow, quiet, reverent. The light at the end of the corridor falls on her face—still that harmless, gentle look. Only she knows that the long-quiet place in her heart is burning hot from this one insignificant touch. Should I switch to a more everyday, more subtly deadly