“Cousin Reynalda, I"m fine. Re-eally,” I stated with as much conviction as I could muster, given I was floating high above a Saturn ring.
Re-eallySitting close in a chair, furry-fluffy cotton balls were bouncing around Rey"s blurry head.
“How would you know?” she asked skeptically. “You"re doped up in a hospital bed with a crazed Garfield the Cat smile.”
I took woozy inventory of the surroundings. Toffee-cream walls. Indirect ambient lighting. Security and IV poles. Eating table supporting coffee cup and half-eaten biscuit. Medical devices, some with pretty, shiny lights. Long tall window with industrial blinds. Fake wood cabinet beside the bed.
“You were shot,” she informed me. “Luckily, it"s not overly serious. Kinda like one of those TV or book "flesh wounds", but ucky.”
“Ucky?” A
