Lila paused outside Room 205, the soft beeping of machines providing a haunting soundtrack to her thoughts. Today was one of those days when the weight of her role pressed down on her chest, stifling her breath and amplifying the fragility of life she witnessed daily. She had entered this profession eager to help, yet with each passing shift, the losses seemed to stack like paperclips in a drawer - each one sharp and unforgiving. Was she equipped to carry this burden? Pushing the door open gently, she stepped inside, her gaze immediately falling on Henry Lawson, the elderly fisherman who had become a fixture in her rounds. He lay propped against pillows, his eyes revealing a flicker of mischief despite his frail condition. "Good morning, Lila! Look at you, an angel in scrubs!" he quipped, his voice raspy yet playful. His playful jest brought a small smile to her lips, warmth blooming briefly within her chest. "You know I'm just doing my job, Henry. Just trying to keep the angels company." "Ah, don't sell yourself short, girl. You're brighter than most sunshine I've seen on these old oceans," he replied, motioning for her to come closer. As she moved to check his vitals, Lila couldn't help but wonder how he maintained such resilience. Was it his countless sea stories that kept him afloat, or something deeper - an unyielding belief in the beauty of life? "Tell me, Lila, have you ever thought about the stories you carry? The ones from all these patients?" Henry prodded, his gaze steady and sincere. She paused, taken aback by the question. "I see their struggles, their pain; I carry that weight with me. But I don't know if I have stories to tell, not like you." Lila's voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping back in. Henry's eyes twinkled as he beckoned her closer, ready to share a different kind of wisdom.