“You sat around here for three weeks?”
“Felt like three years,” she said. “You were all scrunched up. Comatose. You looked awful. In a real bad way.”
“This satellite thing,” he said. “Does it have Garrison on it?”
“You going up there?”
He shrugged.
“I guess. I need to take it easy, right? Country air might do me good.”
Then he looked away from her.
“Maybe you could stay with me awhile, you know, help me recover.”
He threw back the sheet and slid his feet to the floor. Stood up, slow and unsteady, and started to dress, while she held his elbow to keep him from falling.
***
