The Moaning

In the medical ward, on the far table, under a dim construction light, a vaguely female shape lay in a tangle of wires and tubes. She was about my age, light-skinned, but I couldn't tell her nationality.

As I got closer, I could see that her "table" was a tray, half-full of a blue-ish chemical that was being pumped in through a tube like a garden hose. Her arms and legs were swollen, bulging, as if full of liquid. She had IVs in both arms. Her eyes were half-open, but she seemed unconscious.

• Back in the interview room...