As usual, Wendy Zeigler had already prepared a basin of warm water for me to soak my hand. A few anti-inflammatory herbs floated on the surface, while a tube of ointment, cotton swabs, and a clean towel were neatly arranged beside it.She rolled up the sleeves of her loungewear, kneeled in front of me, and gently cradled my right hand. "Moses, did your wrist still hurt today?"Her voice was soft, as though she was afraid of startling me.I shook my head. "It wasn't too bad. It just itched a little.""Don't scratch it." She frowned, her eyes filled with concern. "If you break the skin again, it'll only get worse. You men are always so rough with yourselves."With that, she carefully lowered my hand into the warm water.The moment the water covered my wrist, a sharp stinging sensation spread through the swollen, ulcerated skin encircling it.I couldn't help drawing in a sharp breath.Wendy immediately lowered her head and gently blew across my wrist. "Hang in there," she murmured
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