I had brought the last short length from the working roll so I wouldn't have to explain the width with my fingers.
It lay folded in my left hand while I waited at the clinic receiving counter. The right stayed loose beside my coat. Supply customers sat along the other wall with their request slips; I was still waiting to get one. The morning's walking had left me tired in a way that didn't look like an injury, and I was hoping somebody would finish with one of the chairs.
A woman ahead of me had brought an empty bottle and wanted to know whether its deposit covered a new one. The clerk explained the difference twice, then gave her a slip for the supply queue. When she moved away, he called for the next card.
I gave him mine.
He read the name, turned the card over and put it on the raised part of the counter.
"Young master. If you'd come to this side."
