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The headline read Local Journalist Rescued from Fall, pretty standard.
“Oh brother,” she said out loud. She was reading the copy when Hal stepped in the room.
“Good you got a copy! Front page!” He grinned and handed her a coffee.
“Great. I feel like an idiot.” A dislocated knee, twisted ankle and multiple cuts and abrasions would be a reminder of her idiocy for a while.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, you know what they say…'today’s news is tomorrows fish paper, or bird cage liner or mulch' or something like that." He sat on the edge of the hospital bed, “How long till you get out?” He watched her carefully, to the point of almost making her uneasy.
“Tomorrow. But the cast and crutches are mine for a glorious six weeks! Don’t worry, I can be back at work–”
“Oh no, no, don’t worry abou
