An elderly woman entered with a limping dachshund. She whispered apologies for Tessa’s distress, as if sorrow were contagious through shared air. Tessa managed a thin smile. The woman’s dog got an exam and left before Dr. Hallett returned.
At last the door swung wide. Hallett stepped out, cap askew, gloves streaked with charcoal-colored residue. He met her eyes, and for one terrifying second his face told nothing. Then he exhaled. “It was touch-and-go,” he said quietly, “but we’ve stabilized the little one.”