My time alone with Michael is about to come to an end.
No doubt, Michael knows it, too. In a blink, he brushes his lips over mine, ever so lightly. It is then that something wondrous begins to happen. I don’t mean the memory of our first kiss, although that moment—framed with autumn leaves aflame all around us—is a great marvel, too.
The wondrous thing is something else entirely. It’s this sensation—oh, how do I describe it? A tingle, an itch?—down there, in my left foot. To be more precise, it’s in my pinky toe.
Oh wow! I can move it!
“Goodbye,” says Michael in his softest voice, backing away.
Oh no, don’t go! Not now, I beg him in my heart. With renewed urgency, I move my pinky toe again, praying I could leap over somehow and stop him in his tracks. With him gone, how will I ever learn what he meant by taking responsibility for the crime?
Meanwhile, with a sigh of relief, Ma takes his place by my side. She strokes my hand, which I can’t move, and kisses my brow right over my eyes, which I can’t open to save my life.
“Dear,” she begs, just as before, “give me some signal, will you?”
How can I tell her where to look, where to find my response, when she focuses on the wrong end?
Moving my pinky toe is far from enough. I must do more. I must learn to kick.
Ash finds herself in the ER diagnosed with coma. She has no memory of what has happened to her, but what she can do--despite what everyone around her might think--is listen to the conversations of her visitors. Will she survive the power outage in the hospital and then, being kidnapped out of it?
This sounds interesting.
ReplyDeleteOh, thank you Matriarch Shene
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