By Lindsay Brown (based on Amy’s words)

I was in terrible pain. I suppose I’ve always been rather clumsy, but what I consider to be an endearing quirk has never landed me in hospital before. What was terribly embarrassing about the whole affair is that the mantle was so dusty, and there I was sitting on a hospital bed being examined by the doctor, with a hair-do full of dust! He advised rest, which worried me enough to call my mother. After all, when I fell down the stairs when I was 6 and trying to untie a balloon from the banister, she was frantically trying to keep me awake to make sure I didn’t die! Anyway, she told me to stop getting so over-excited, as it probably nothing more than a headache, perhaps a little bump. Admittedly, aside from a little drowsiness, it didn’t amount to much more. When I returned home, my flatmate had made a pot of tea and served me a lovely cup with a slice of marble cake. I appreciated the touch of irony. Somehow irrelevant baked goods wouldn’t have the same sincere get well sentiment.

One comment

  1. The fall, the hospital visit, the childhood fall earlier and the final sympathic gesture from a flatmate, provide many threads in the story that could be fleshed out further for a fuller read.

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