from Victo Dolore
I shoved a pair of new pajamas into the drawer and closed it, turning around to face him.
He sat on the edge of the bed. A once tall and proud man, he was now withered and shrunken. His eyes accused me. Of what, he was no longer certain, but he was absolutely sure I was guilty.
He was right.
“This isn’t a cruise ship is it?” I shook my head. “I lost my wallet and haven’t got any money.” The anger in his voice was replaced by fear.
I patted his hand reassuringly. “It’s rehab, hon. You’ll be back home before you know it.” The lie burned my throat as I said it but it mollified him for the moment.
The roommate sat across the room watching our exchange silently from his wheelchair, wrapped in a plaid robe with white…
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