My Grandma Kept a Notebook Nobody Knew About

” he said.

I was in the hallway outside a patient’s room, holding a stack of discharge papers and a pen that didn’t work.

“I’m sorry,” I said, because that’s what you say.

“Don’t be. I mean. Be a little. But not too much.”

He sounded tired. Older.

He told me Victoria had opened the unit expecting art or antiques. Something she could spin. Something she continue reading …