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Only the Fridge
The ceiling lights died just after Ruth had checked the back room. The clinic did not go quiet. Someone in the waiting chairs laughed, then stopped. Against the wall, the small fridge kept its low hum, and Ruth listened to it the way you listen when you are afraid a sound will end.
That fridge was the thing she had to protect. It held medicines that needed the cold. She was not going to open the door just to look brave. She knew enough without that. If the hum stopped and stayed stopped, the afternoon would turn into a problem. The grid had failed. The panels on the roof were the other way to feed a plug.
Jon came in from the desk with the kettle already in his hands. He was walking toward the battery box by the door.