When I returned to work, I served a breakfast of French Texas toast, Virginia bacon,
and fresh fruit. It was a success.
Mrs. Shaede said, “Stephen, are going to bring my bran muffin, or did you eat it?”
She is ninety-five and in a wheelchair. When I look at her, she puffs out her cheeks and points to my belly, which hangs out of my shirt.
“I’ll get your muffin, Mrs. Shaede.”
Now she is cutting the seeds out of her morning banana. She doesn’t eat banana seeds.
Mrs. Kleinfeld requires six prunes every morning. She walks around all day bent over, and I spread a rumor among the staff that the prunes have her locked in a farting position.
It was a long hard day.