Blindsided (part 1)


“Possible concussion.”

“Compound fracture.”


Words filter in. Are they talking to me? About me? I’m broken?

My brain is fuddled. That’s a funny word. Where’d it come from? I haven’t heard that since my second grade teacher, Miss Shutt would—

“Mrs. Roberts?”

Someone shines a bright light in my eyes.

“Ann Roberts? We’re taking care of you. Your husband will be here when you wake up.”

There’s a pinch, and then blessed blackness.

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