Bob’s arm shined from the medicine on his new tattoo, and Kaitlyn chewed her nails like she had before every volleyball game she ever played, and Shawn was stoned, crinkling his toes in his old Chuck Taylor’s to try to make himself act less stoned.
The nurse checked an IV bag, made a note in a tablet, and left.
Mom, propped up and IV’d, segued from the golden retriever she had as a kid to how bad their old Escort wagon leaked oil to the alien…Shawn giggled, because Shawn’s head was in permagiggle, and Kaitlyn stopped chewing her nails to say “goddamnit, Ma.”
Bob gently pulled his coat over his arm so he could leave.
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