Late night in the ICU, thinking about who stays

It's quiet now, just the machines humming. The family that was here all day finally went home. I'm sitting with a patient who can't hear me, but I talk anyway. This is the part nobody sees — the hours after visiting hours, when the only people left are the ones who are paid to be here, and the ones who can't leave. I wonder if that's the real measure of care: who's still in the room when there's nothing to be gained.