ADVERTISEMENT
Later, a charge nurse came in—calm, efficient, steady hands. She checked vitals. Adjusted the blanket.
It was small. Almost nothing.
But the nurse saw it.
I waited until Jasper was back on his phone before unfolding it.
A yellow Post-it.
My throat went dry.
“What does this mean?” I asked quietly.
That was all.
At 2:58 a.m., I knocked on the security office door.
The guard didn’t argue. He pulled up the feed.