Bob is standing next to Susannah Fontaine-Williams’s hospital bed. Macallan slouches in a chair on the other side of the bed, eyes shut, a crossword puzzle on his lap. Bob grasps her hands in his. A Dylan song plays dreamily, coming from someone’s phone or tablet. (Bob backstory here.) My love, she speaks like silence … Continue reading What about Bob?
Macallan doesn’t mind hospitals the way other people do. He gets some peace, some quiet, finds some meditation in the beeps and blinks of monitors and equipment. Hospitals are interesting mixtures of folks either waiting to die or desperate not to, sometimes sharing the same hospital suite. Susannah Fontaine-Williams, still unconscious, lay in the bed … Continue reading Visiting hours
I walk into the drug store feeling a little congested. I need Claritin, the D kind, the one that decongests. There are laminated Claritin D Cards on the shelves with the other allergy stuff, the stuff that doesn't work that's in its boxes on the shelves that you can just pick up without any fuss … Continue reading A trip to the pharmacy
“What’s this?” “Oh, these are next big thing.” Sometimes Walt spoke that way, omitting the simple adjectives just for kicks. “Drain clearing nano-bots.” “It just looks like metal filings to me,” she said and picked up the vial with the label that read in tiny, neat script, DCNB. “Very observant. They are... until you dump … Continue reading Drain clearing nano-bots
Susannah Fontaine-Williams landed at JFK, ambled quickly through customs, and isn't the new system great, and saw the man holding her sign, S WILLIAMS. Her driver, Rodrigo, led her to the black car waiting at the curb, held the door open and in she climbed, escaping the sweaty New York City morning. Walt sat in the … Continue reading Customer service