Joey is walking down the hallway. He’s got two other men with him, and they’re pushing empty wheelchairs. He grins at me, like always. He puts his hazmat suit on, then comes into the room.

“Well, this is it!” he says cheerfully. “Just think, this is the last time you’ll be seeing me in this thing.”

I should be excited to leave quarantine, to leave the hospital. And part of me is, but part of me is also … sad. This room has been my home for the last thirty days. Thirty days of sleeping next to Oliver, being next to Oliver, and once I walk through the antechamber, that phase of my life is over. Though I bet he can’t wait.

Joey looks around the room. “You look like you’re packed and ready to go! What about Romeo?”

“Um, I’m not sure. We haven’t been in touch much these last couple days.”

“In touch? Flora, his bed is right next to yours.” He laughs.

I force a laugh. “We’ve been trying to prepare for life outside quarantine again.” Which I suppose is sort of true.

“Well, I hope you’re both ready, because it’s time to go!” Joey opens the curtain. Oliver is sitting on his bed, and he immediately springs up.

“Are we going? Should we get to the airport? You never know how long security will take.”

Joey laughs. “Dude, your flight doesn’t leave for another four hours.”

But Oliver doesn’t hear him. He’s wheeling his suitcase to the door. He doesn’t even look back at the room. Or back at me.

“Well, I guess we’re going, then,” Joey says. “Hey, Romeo, let me go first.”

“Oh, right,” Oliver says.

He walks through the antechamber, and Oliver finally looks back at me. He looks like he wants to say something, but then he quickly pulls his suitcase through the chamber.

I follow him, and we’re in the hallway I’ve looked at for the past thirty days. It feels like being on the other side of a camera. Like being in the audience after on the stage.

“Your chariots,” Joey says, gesturing to the wheelchairs. “Not quite the souped-up ones you had on the way in.”

Oliver tries to climb into one of the chairs, but he trips on a pedal. The man behind the chair catches him just in time, helps him into his chair. “Sorry. Thanks,” Oliver says.

Joey lightly touches my arm, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt his fingers. Even though he’s not in a hazmat suit anymore, I’m the one who suddenly feels naked.

He guides me over to the chair, and I feel like I might pass out when he wraps his hand around my arm to help me into it. Are hot interns why this whole thing about patients leaving hospitals in wheelchairs started?

“All right, boys, you take good care of our patients,” Joey says.

“You’re not coming with?” I say before I can stop myself.

“Ah, I’m afraid this is where our ships part.”

“Oh, right,” I say, feeling embarrassed. Obviously I knew he wasn’t coming to the airport, but I wasn’t expecting to say bye to him just yet.

He kneels down in front of my chair. I can smell him. He smells like aftershave and shampoo and I feel dizzy breathing him in. “You take good care of yourself, okay? You’re a tough cookie.” He puts his hand on my knee, squeezes it, and then stands up.

“Hasta la vista, Romeo,” he says, saluting.

Oliver just glares at him, but Joey has already started to walk away. He turns around one more time, looks around quickly, and then blows me a kiss.

I gasp, tell myself he’s just doing what he saw my dad and Goldy doing. Then I’m moving, and realize the man is pushing my wheelchair.

I look over my shoulder, and Oliver is behind me in his wheelchair, taking in all the new scenery. I don’t think he saw Joey’s blown kiss.

There is so much to look at, so many people see. I had every inch of my hospital room memorized and my brain can’t process how many things I’m being wheeled past. We get in an elevator, and the movement is jarring, but for some weird reason I have that feeling in the back of my mouth like I want to cry.

I look at Oliver again, and he’s looking all around too. “I forgot how many buttons there were in elevators!” he says.

“I know the feeling.”

We get pushed down another hallway, and then I see the sliding glass doors leading outside.

Oliver and I are leaving the hospital the way we came in—together.

We get closer and closer to the doors, and then we’re outside.

Birds are chirping, and cars are honking, and ambulances are pulling in, and there are people everywhere. Everywhere. Crowds of people, and when they see Oliver and me, they all start yelling. It’s hard to concentrate on all the faces at once, but I realize they’re saying our names and “Floriver” and telling us they love us. A bunch of them are holding up signs that say things like FLORIVER 4EVER. One even has a photo of Kelsey’s face with a big X over it. That one’s my favorite.

The orderlies pushing our wheelchairs tell the crowds to back off. I turn to Oliver and he looks just as shocked as I feel. Everyone is watching us, yelling, and it’s so hard to process this many faces at once, so much sunshine at once.

I look past the crowds of people at a food cart across the street. I gulp in the air. It smells like exhaust and humidity and tacos … but it’s the best air I’ve ever smelled.

We’re mostly in the shade, but I reach out my arm into the sunshine, and I don’t care if I get a sunburn. But then I see the crowds of people are getting closer again, and they all have their phones out, taking pictures.

Oliver is watching me, watching the crowds. “What are all these people doing here? What do they want?” He looks a little scared.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they chant.

I watch the huge group of people all say the same word over and over again while they stare at Oliver and me with their phones out, and the last thing I want to do is what they’re robotically chanting.

And I know Oliver doesn’t want to kiss me anyway.