Liquid Lies
“Kenneth Wilson, please come to floor three,” the unit secretary said over the pager.
When I saw Ken emerge from the hallway, my heart skipped a beat. As always, his tousled sandy brown hair, light blue eyes, and tall stature had the power to grab my attention.
“I heard about your accident,” he said as he walked over and kissed me. “I’m ordering a CT scan.” He tugged me into an exam room.
Deciding not to get up on the exam table, I sat down in a chair. All six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds of him hovered over me. He reached into his white lab coat pocket and pulled out a penlight.
I winced as the light blinded me. “Who told you?” I grimaced. “Mark?”
“Mark. Estelle. Hazel. Damn near the whole town.” He leaned over me, touching the cut above my eye. “It isn’t deep, you don’t need stitches. But you did hit your head so I want the CT.”
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