He Asked Me to Stop Talking About My Cancer

counters were clean. My meds were lined up beside a glass of water. The blue folder was gone.

In its place sat that pale green scarf from Helen’s box.

I picked it up and tied it clumsily over my head. My fingers didn’t work the way I wanted. I had to try twice.

Then I walked to the front window.

Outside, Mrs. Donnelly was finally watering the same geranium continue reading …