” `Are you sure, sweetheart, that you want to be well?’
“Velma Henry turned stiffly on the stool, the gown ties tight across her back, the knots hard. So taut for so long, she could not swivel. Neck, back, hip joints dry, stiff. Face frozen. She could not glower, suck her teeth, roll her eyes, do any of the Velma-things by way of answering Minnie Ransom, who sat before her humming lazily up and down the scales, making a big to-do of draping her silky shawl, handling it as though it were a cape she’d swirl any minute over Velma’s head in a wipe-out veronica, or as though it were a bath towel she was drying her back with in the privacy of her bathroom.”
Suggested by Marian Hayes, Chicago
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