The man claws at his throat, red and straining, nothing coming up. Her hand clamps on your wrist. 'Do not hit him. I am a nurse. It is stuck in his food pipe, not his airway, he can still breathe, you will only crack a rib.' He is staring at you, and over the noise of the room you cannot tell if that is air he is dragging in or just panic. Her grip does not loosen, his face is going darker, and every second you spend deciding is a second he does not get back.
The Table Beside You