Five days after the glass shattering in my hand, I was able to remove the bandages and have more of my mobility. With it being Thursday, and the day for the quilters to come in and inspect their new room, I didn’t want a glaring reminder of my gun ordeal. I’d rather have my questions catch them by surprise. Bruce pulled his squad car in front of the coffee shop across the street, and I glanced at the clock. I should have left the house early enough to stop before coming to work. Where was Mom? The moment she showed, I would dash across the street for my morning java and maybe glean some information out of our overworked officer of the law. There she was! Before she could enter, I dashed out. “Be back in a few.” I raced across the street and barged into the coffee shop where I ran smack into Bruce’s back. He bent over at the waist, flailed his arms, and lost the battle with gravity. He hit the floor, taking a chair down with him. “I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my smashed nose with one hand and offered him the other.
