Emily was unfazed by the waft of bile from my washcloth. Maybe I just imagined she could smell it. I certainly could, but the residual taste and debris in my mouth might have been responsible for that. Lunch only tasted good going one way. I had now tested this enough times to know. The waste bin sealed shut and rolled away. Emily handed me a fresh towel and motioned for my arm.
She smiled. But I knew that smile already. She wasn’t happy.
Meant to have something new written last week, but fell so behind. Here’s a snippet from something I worked on over the weekend instead.