A Betting Man. Wayne Harper

I walked right past him and went up to the third floor. Outside the ward I put on my mask, a rectangle of blue cellulose which covered my face from under my chin to the bridge of my nose. My glasses immediately steamed up. I pushed open the heavily-sprung door and went through. I could hardly see. I walked tentatively down the blue corridor like a diver at the bottom of the ocean. Two or three patients were strolling around, bright-eyed and alert above their masks. These, by definition, were healthy patients…