"How're you feeling?" she asked.
"Exhausted," I said, hoping she'd get the message.
"I'm sorry," she said, "I'll let you rest. I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing, and I wanted to give you this."
She handed me a large envelope. I slid out the card and opened it. It read, Get well soon! with some other crap below it, and was signed by people from the office. I looked at a few of the signatures, noticing Jeff's, larger than anyone else's, and then I tossed the card onto the floor.
Angie gave me a funny look, as if I'd done something to insult her.
"So," she said, "how are you?"
"Can't you shave that fucking thing?"
She saw that I was staring at the area above her upper lip. She backed away a couple of steps, looking hurt.
"What?" I said. "You know you have a mustache, don't you? And what did you do, gain ten pounds? You really need to hit the gym big-time."
"I should go now," she said. "I mean, I just came by to see how you were doing, but I… I really better… What's that?"
She was looking toward the night table with a shocked, disgusted expression.
"What does it look like?" I said. "It's a picture."
"But who is it?"
"My sister."
"Come on, that isn't really»
"Sure is. Can't you see the resemblance?"
"But… but she's naked."
"So?"
Angie leaned closer toward the night table and looked back and forth at me and at the picture a few times.
"Oh, my God," she said.
"Nice rack, huh?" I said. "And look at those legs not an ounce of flab on 'em. Yeah, Barb had a great bod and she knew how to use it too."
Angie backed away farther, stumbling on her heels; then she turned and rushed out of the room. I shook my head, wondering what was wrong with her, when I noticed the empty cup on the tray. I pushed the call button until somebody answered on the intercom, and then I screamed,
"Hey, where the hell's that fat bitch with my apple juice?"