Being stuck at home with a busted leg bone does have its advantages even for an active and life-loving guy like me.
For one, there’s tea and biscuits nearly all day, what with the stream of friends and colleagues visiting to wish me well. And eat the biscuits.
I also get time to myself, quality time, time to look through the window at the yellows and browns and golds as the broadleaf trees respond to the cycle of nature, time to think about the joy of life. And about the finality of death.
Soon my leg will be healed. Soon I’ll get back to work. The sooner the better, I think, as does my boss, the Governor.
“Get him back soon,” he said to Martha, “Get him back. I’ve got three clients waiting for him, waiting for his administrations.”
I said he should let my deputy do it. He felt the man’s not ready yet and what if there were to be a hiccup, what with all the eyes of the world on us.
He’s probably right. I best know the chair, how to attach the electrodes, how to throw that switch, pump up the juice.
It’s nice to be needed.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction 200 word challenge found here,