He says, “I’m in the hospital,” as though it was cause for celebration.
Because I know better, I ask for particulars. Details such as where, what for, who’s with you; just so you know, we cover the bases adequately. I’m a quick study. In fact, in the course of cohabitation, I was able to develop psychographic memory in less than a year.
He hesitates. After some time he hedges, “It’s embarrassing, and such a silly little accident. It’s stupid really.”
I let the silence grow long and dark. I watch the silence unfold itself and settle like a grey mist over the conversation.
“I stepped on a nail, alright. Happy now?”