Previously on When the Wind Turned:
August 29, 2005
As Katrina’s track sharpened, Dr. Jeremy Rosenfeld spent the day in the OR at Ochsner — stabilizing trauma patients while the hospital braced for impact. Between cases, memories of Frankie and the kids flickered through him: their early-morning hug two days earlier, the fear in his wife’s eyes she wouldn’t name, the unspoken acknowledgment that they might soon face something far beyond a storm.
While the city held its breath, Jeremy did the only thing he could: scrub in, save who he could, and hope his family stayed safe uptown.
Chapter Three: The Air Before the Break
(August 26–27, 2005)
JACOB ROSENFELD — Friday Night, August 26, 2005
The air tasted wrong that night.
Not dangerous.
Not chemical.
Just… wrong.
Like the sky was holding its breath.
Seventeen or nearly that many years of New Orleans summers had taught Jacob what August heat felt like. This wasn’t it. The light outside had gone too white, metallic. And the breeze—when it bothered to move—pushed from the wrong direction, as though something enormous was inhaling over the Gulf.
But inside, it was just a Friday.
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