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Much too busy at work and at home to write lately. Here's another item from the archives.

”Now, Joseph, you take extra good care of yourself today,” the woman said, zipping up his coat to the collar. The car stood idling at the curb of a far too busy street, with its passenger door standing open and the motorized cart waiting nearby. It was far from ideal as a dropoff point due to the traffic, but it had to do. She couldn’t get him any closer to the entrance to his office building.

“I’ll be fine,” the man replied.

“I really wish you didn’t insist on working today,” she continued. “You’re really under the weather. And you’ll have to get yourself the rest of the way. I can’t leave the car here.”

“I know you can’t leave the car. I appreciate your help, but I wish you wouldn’t treat me like a child,” he said gently. “And I have to work.”

It had to be. It was part of his being, even more so than the motorized cart and the inevitable looks of sympathy. But he left that all unsaid.


May 19, 2003 in Fiction | Permalink