Laurie puts her violin down on the chair next to her.

“Here, just look at this and tell me if it’s a tick bite!!” She starts to pull her shirt up and I scream.

“No!!!”

“I don’t care if you see my breasts, I just can’t see it myself!!” I start laughing and put my head in my hands, the neck of the cello tucking into my elbow.

“What!!??” she cries.

I can barely breathe I’m laughing so hard.

“I was hit in the head,” he shouts, “by flying debris!” His voice escalates at the end of the sentence, an adrenalined but very characteristic bit of word painting. The triage nurse stares at him, wide-eyed, and then looks at me. She hands me a clipboard, asks him to please have a seat, calls him “sir” as people always call my Dad.