I grabbed The Adventures of Tom Sawyer from the donated book pile and headed back into the throng of bandaged men and twittering canaries, the latter of which set my nerves on edge with their erratic, fussy, twitchy bird movements. “Are you all right?” asked a woman’s voice. I pulled my eyes away from a cage of yellow birds and found the Red Cross nurse with the amber cat eyes standing next to me. “Yes. Why?” “You’ve been staring at that cage for at least two minutes. One of the men who’s been eagerly awaiting the end of Tom Sawyer called me over and asked what you were doing.” “Oh.” I blinked away a foggy haze muddling my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I sit down and start reading again.” “If this is too much for you—” “I’ll be fine. I’m happy to be here again. I want to help.” Her eyes seemed to ask, Are you sure about that? I gave her a confident nod and watched her walk away. Then my attention wandered to the part of the room where Jones and Carlos had rested the day before, and I half expected to hear myself called Aunt Gertie again.
What do You think about In The Shadow Of Blackbirds?
