"Your rheumatism bad again?" she said sympathetically. "I'll get it."
She flipped the frying eggs over and went into the living room. I heard
a door open and close. She was back again with the paper.
She handed it to me. I held it, wondering what would happen if I opened
it and tried to read it.
I could smell the coffee. I could smell the eggs and bacon, and
hear them cooking. I held my breath and looked at a segment of the
newspaper. The type was clear. I read, "upstate New York for this
year." It was clear and legible, and I had had no difficulty reading
it. And nothing had happened to me.
The woman set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. The plate was
large, with an intricate blue design on it. A moment later she brought
a cup of coffee.
"Better hurry," she said cheerfully. "I wish you would make an
appointment this morning and go see that radio-therapist and let him
put heat on your shoulder. It did you a world of good the last time."
I grunted and ate swiftly, wanting to escape. She didn't resent my lack
of response. She seemed to take it for granted. She sat there, sipping
a cup of coffee. She hadn't fixed herself anything to eat.