By Jeffrey Paolano
“Hey man, how ya do’en?”
I touch his radiation-emaciated thigh to assure I’ve his attention. Ruined now, I remember him tall and true.
“Do’en good, just fine,” Carl croaks.
Pre-cancer, Cathy couldn’t keep her hands off’n him, was on him all the time. Now the bitch avoids him like the plague.
“You ought’en to treat Carl this a way, girl.”
“I ain’t shame’n the poor bastard,” Cathy replies.
“What you saying? You doing him a favor?”
“I ain’t publicly pitying him.”
“You just don’t want the trouble.”
“You as dumb as dirt: always was.”
Her unfeigned tear I find cogently beneficent.
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Gotcha !! Sad but often true. Good story.
Wrong use of “emaciated” and no plot – just judgement. Poor choice for publication.