Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

did not look at her computer screen immediately, but kept her eyes on my face as I sat down.

“Your laboratory results came back from the regional hospital yesterday afternoon,” Dr. Sullivan said.

I sat on the edge of the vinyl chair, my purse clutched tightly in my lap. I was rubbing my thumb over my index fingernail, feeling the deep vertical ridges continue reading …