31

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Then thirty one. "31" lives inside the count: the minutes when you push and breathe for someone else, fake a heart into beating one more time, and keep going because stopping isn't allowed yet. And then the part nobody trains you for: the station and your room start to look the same, and sleep won't come. If you've carried a call home with you, you're welcome to say so in the comments. You're not the only one.