I’d been on the phone for over an hour; my nails were clicking quietly and impatiently against the dark wood of my desk. “Right, my place is only a few miles from the hospital. It’s an easy drive.” I stop talking as she begins to ramble off questions mixed with nonsensical words. She gets confused so easily and she interrupts regularly, as if she cannot hear me speaking. “No, remember the truck’s transmission went out right before I moved here. I have a little station wagon now.” Another pause. “Yes, I remember Dad’s wagon. A lot of road trips in that.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’m really liking it here, Mom.” Picking my right hand off the desk, the office suddenly felt too silent with the absence of my nails no longer contacting the wood surface. Dallas had been my home for six months now, and my mom was still acting as if I’d just moved here. I should expect it. I’m a doctor and I knew what her diagnosis would mean; how she’d become worse and worse as her mind and body failed her.
What do You think about Z Children (Book 2): The Surge?
