Life begins,Sartre once wrote,on the other side of despair.
It wasn’t raining any more. She was inside and sitting in a hospital bed.
She had been put on a ward and had eaten and was feeling a lot better.
The medical staff were pleased, following her physical examination. The tender abdomen was to be expected, apparently.
She tried to impress the doctor by telling her a fact Ash had told her, about a stomach lining renewing itself every few days.
Then a nurse came and sat on her bed with a clipboard and went through reams of questions relating to her state of mind.
Nora decided to keep her experience of the Midnight Library to herself
because she imagined that it wouldn’t go down too well on a psychiatric evaluation form.
It was safe to surmise the little-known realities of the multiverse probably weren’t yet incorporated
within the care plans of the National Health Service.
The questions and answers continued for what felt like an hour.
They covered medication, her mother’s death, Volts, losing her job, money worries, the diagnosis of situational depression.
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