A new piece of short fiction follows Clover, since the stroke, being rescued from a memory care facility.
If you’d like to read the first part, click below.
Let me know what you think.
I love ya.
K
When her kids came to get her, finally, Clover was mad. She’d been in there for so long. She’d been in the hospital for six weeks in a coma, and then to UCLA restorative rehabilitation, for strength, and flexibility – where she’d learn, again, to walk. Then she’d been in Oxnard another month, for long-term care, where she relearned some ability to speak – reading and writing was over – and where she tried to escape a few times, which is when Jack knew she was still herself. During most of this Jack was in treatment, himself, and he couldn’t visit anyway due to strict Covid-19 restrictions. Her daughter came, once or twice, and stood outside the window and waved to her, but this almost made it worse. A mouthful of freedom with no taste – so bland she couldn’t even swallow. They were only allowed to touch her when they were going to come get her to move her, and that time had finally arrived.
