Runaway TrainChapter 98
It took some time for our visitors to get used to my infirmity. At my insistence, Liz took a photo of my battered arm on her phone. I had used the logic that it was it a “before” photo that I could use for inspiration in my therapy. It was a blatant falsehood. As soon as we returned down the stairs – and after Sondra had departed for home – I pulled my friends aside and showed it to them. “It’s still there and still attached,” I said, making sure to look hard at each of them. Not...