"What is this?" she breathed.
This was not an anatomy. It was the Anatomy. Grey's. The platonic ideal of every textbook diagram, every surgical sketch, made flesh and given a dying man's form. Searching for- grey anatomy in-
An old man in a janitor's uniform stepped forward. She'd seen him a thousand times, mopping floors, emptying biohazard bins. His name tag read MEREDITH . "What is this