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Amnesic, Not Delusional
Me and Maisie walk out of Dr. Jones’ office and through the hospital’s corridors in silence, except for some exchanged greetings with some of the staff who came to check on us or just bombard my poor friend with questions not only about my conditions but about work and other patients.
That didn’t mean she didn’t have anything to say though, knowing my friend , I was sure she had something waiting under her tongue, but I safely presumed that she was waiting until we were in a better place, maybe with less eyes and ears around us, to talk freely, something I am grateful for.
It was one extra amazing thing about Maisie, she effortlessly knew when to talk and when to not.
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