poured out before bed
The little old woman in her lilac power suit grasps my arm with noduled fingers, smiling an impossibly sweet little smile.
“Do you know, you look like an awful lot like Grace Kelly? Martha, doesn’t she look like young Grace?” she directs her trembling voice to her equally unsteady companion.
“Oh yes, yes, Gertrude! Oh, lovely!” Martha chirps, her sun spotted hand joining her friend’s on my arm.
“Oh, well, thank you, ladies. That’s a very nice thing to say. Now, where is it you’re trying to get to this morning?”
Gertrude’s impossibly sweet smile reconstitutes, effecting even more impossible sweetness.
“Well, to the Eye Institute. I’m having my cataracts removed today, and Martha is having hers out next month – we scheduled them so we could help each other. Isn’t that exciting?!”