I sit down at a window seat opposite a petite lady. She rests her head on the pane, watching November trees go by. There’s a blue lanyard around her neck: CABRINI CABRINI CABRINI “It’s been a long day,” she starts up. “You work in Malvern. That’s a fair way,” I hear myself saying. The nurse: “I live in Doreen.” She’s been at the hospital since early morning. We share Cabrini stories of doctors, treatments, visits: smiles of recognition. Zing go the strings of her phone, which she plucks from her pocket. Against all expectation, she starts talking in fluent Tagalog.