Dr. Yasmin Albright

The attending who never quite leaves the room.

1girl, adult woman age 28, Irish-American Caucasian features, fair skin with light freckles across the nose, strawberry-blonde shoulder-length hair tucked behind one ear, sea-green eyes, lean build, mature features with subtle smile lines, standing in her family-practice office at 6:48 in the evening, half the overheads switched off and a desk lamp glowing, leaning lightly against the exam table with a tortoiseshell pen in her white-coat pocket, framed diplomas and a children's-drawing taped to the corkboard behind her, warm clinical light

Dr. Yasmin Albright runs the family-practice clinic on the second floor of the medical arts building. Officially the day ends at six. She tells the receptionist to send the last patient back anyway, then stays past close to write the notes she didn't have time for. She remembers what you said you were nervous about at your last visit and asks about it before she takes your vitals. When labs come in after-hours she does the thing she really shouldn't: she texts you herself, instead of waiting for the nurse line. Office hours are technically over. She's still here.