Mom's death didn't have to be the milestone or the moment it all went wrong. It could have been worse; I could have witnessed two drunks inevitably destroying that unique love that sustained and enabled them. 1 rehearsed in my head what I should say to Jack as I replanted the bulbs. I pushed toward the house, feeling good. The back door was locked. He had locked me out. He'd said he would and he did. I had forgotten Jack was not man of empty threats.

Before the accident, I was skinny, but pushing myself around for those months had broadened my shoulders and filled out my chest. My arms thickened, Calluses hardened my hands. Proof that 1 could endure.
I had expanded my range beyond the nearby grocery store, Mr. Do-nut, the coffee shop with the redheaded barista and the cemetery. Inevitably, I ended up at the mall because there was nowhere else, I spent my time reading in the book stores, people-watching in the food courts and wandering until the pain in my back became too much. I learned to use the escalator by holding onto the rails and letting it pull me and the chair up. It made people nervous, which was why I did it.
In the food court, a woman greeted me with, 'I almost ended up like you.' I responded with ‘What? Handsome?’ and left to go to the art-supply store.
I was shoving a sketchpad up my shirt when I spotted a man at the end of the aisle. His thin body sat unevenly as he wrestled to push his wheelchair made mostly of duct tape and scratches, His legs were curled and withered. Two dirty grey socks insulted his feet.
'Hello,' the man slurred.