“Watch that ankle.” Colonel Hanson helped Carole lower herself into the front seat of the sedan. Then he took the crutches from her and tucked them into the backseat. Once she was all settled, he closed the door firmly and got in on the driver’s side. He started the engine and pulled slowly out of the Quantico Military Base Hospital parking lot. Carole stared out the window glumly. Usually she liked going onto the base with her father. It was fun to watch the enlisted men and women marching in f...ormation. Today she hardly noticed them. She kept hearing Dr. Curtis’s diagnosis echo in her mind: sprained ankle. Treatment: soaking and rest. No riding for two weeks. Keep walking to a minimum, and use crutches to keep the weight off. “How does it feel, honey?” Colonel Hanson asked gently. “A little better,” Carole said. She made an effort to smile. It seemed as if her father felt worse than she did about her ankle. “Good thing it’s wrapped so well,” he joked. They both laughed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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