The way Allan told it—and he liked to tell it—they had Peter’s unusual last name and a management directive to thank for being together. The hospital had been retraining old nurses to fill a shortfall. Some preferred the formality of earlier days. Their name badges—just the first name—became an issue. So management acquiesced. That’s how Peter had himself rebadged, throwing away the plain old Peter badge he’d worn since he’d started as a student nurse. He walked into the ward, athletic and confident and introduced himself with a grin. ‘You’re new,’ he said, pointing to the shiny new badge. ‘I’m Nurse Jane. I need to take your pulse.’
(this is an edited version of the story published on this day, 2010. See about small stories about love)
small stories about love 