Rosa took the ten o'clock bus every night.

The bus was almost empty. A guard. A cleaning lady. Rosa.

Night people. Quiet people. People the city does not see.

Rosa was forty-eight years old. She was a nurse. She worked the night shift at Hospital São Miguel, in São Paulo.

In her bag she had a lunch box. Rice, beans, an egg. She cooked it at six in the evening. She ate it at midnight, alone, in the small nurses' room.

Nobody waited for Rosa at home. Nobody called her in the day.

But at night, in the hospital, voices called her name.

"Nurse! Water, please!"

"Nurse! It hurts!"

"Nurse, stay with me."

In the city, nobody saw Rosa.

In the hospital, at night, everybody needed her.