Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2015 | Page 73

“Sure.” She leaves. A doctor comes in with a cart. He tells me better. “Yes.” He says good, asks if I need anything else. “No.” I look at the television. The news. A man rushes away from R “She was there after— me in the gut. I double over. She drives away. The exhaust is hot on my legs. It makes me aware of how hot it is. I wipe sweat from close. [62]