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Drive

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Drive

Neela sits in her car at the University of Michigan and pouts. Then she walks from the car toward the building. Walking, walking, walking, still walking. She's all in shadow now, and she's right up in the camera lens, and she's walking, walking...holy GOD, can someone please yell "cut," or whatever it is they do when a scene has gone on way, way too long? I don't need to see her walking this much. The concept is fairly basic: she's traveling by foot. I get it.

As Mr. Linda hunches over Michael's bedside, Carter tells him that Michael came through lung surgery very well. "He has my ears," murmurs Mr. Linda. "I was hoping he'd get my eyes." Wait...am I mistaken, or did he just more or less say that he hates his wife's eyes? As if he married Linda despite the rather obvious flaw of her peepers, and spent his nights praying hard that their child wouldn't suffer the same fate? Or is it just that he deifies his own eyes? Either way, were Linda awake and possessed of legs, I should think she'd kick his ass for that. Suddenly, Linda does regain consciousness, and her husband rushes over to her and gently tells her that she lost her legs. "But you're going to be okay," he whispers. "You're going to be good." Linda's reaction is to flutter her eyelids -- you know, those blessed shades covering her hideous, monstrous, generically cruel eyes.

Abby rifles through the mail drawer, prying from Frank that her letter would be filed under "N" for "Nurses." Irritated, she grabs it from the folder and exhales hard, staring at it, unprepared for the moment of truth. And possibly hoping it will turn into a cigarette so she can smoke it and be free.

Neela's new supervisor gives a really lousy tour of campus, full of lame jokes and forced joviality. Weaver may be a bitch, but I'll give her credit for not trying to inundate people with this sort of annoying, strenuous cheer. After the tour is over, Neela asks to speak with the supervisor privately. "Dr. Rasgotra," he identifies her. "Transitional internship leading to Dermatology, right?" Neela nods. Wow, Dermatology? Well, I guess if she hates kids, and old people, and really sick and contagious people, and young babies, then she's finally zeroed in on the right field. As long as she doesn't develop a stomach-turning aversion to acne.

It's raining in Chicago. Abby is sitting on a covered step outside a building near County, and she's reading through her letter, rocking back and forth slightly. "HA!" she suddenly blurts, delightedly, hugging her letter to her chest. Carter, leaving the hospital, sees this with amusement. "Good news?" he asks. "I bassed my boards," she glows. Carter congratulates her with a gentle smile; it's clear he's still not quite himself. And he's carrying a mysterious cardboard box under his arm -- the kind you'd take from work if you had just cleaned out your desk. Or your locker. But the show doesn't address what it is, and Abby doesn't seem to notice. "Thank you!" she giggles. "Oh, GOD!" Then she pauses. "Sorry," she says, seeming to realize that her joy is something Carter can't wholly share, given his grief. "I'm just...You going home?" He nods. "Give Kem my best," she says. Carter turns away, then stops. "Hey, Abby. I never had a doubt in my mind," he calls out. Then he walks away with his box of clairvoyance. Abby nods, and then spins around and lets out a triumphant "YEAH!" It's sort of sweet.

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