Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

her office where the hum of the air conditioner was the only sound. She folded her hands neatly on her mahogany desk.

“The preliminary panel shows a severe metabolic imbalance, Martha,” Dr. Sullivan said.

“Is it my mind, Clara?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Your thyroid is barely functioning,” she said, her voice precise and measured. “And your continue reading …