Color

Morning door open, whosit?

“Got your breakfast here, I’ll leave it on your table for ya.”

“Thanks,” too tired, fall back… 

– – –

Again awoken by nurse checking vitals, prick the fingertip and pressure squeezed above my bicep, “Do you think you’re ready to try some chicken broth?” he asked.

Need to eat to see if things will move.

“Okay, I’ll have some.”

Lid drip with condensation, sip of warm salty broth, tastes good, another sipp.

And sippp again.

Until finished.

Colored sugars for desert, jello and italian ice, starting to melt, just stick with ginger ale.

Pop! Fzzzzzzzzzz into the ice cup, commercial break on the television.

 rrrf what’s that?

– – –