Word of the day: Tower
Marty woke up. The pounding in his temple made sudden movement impossible. His entire body was consumed with pain. A quick survey of his surroundings revealed he was in bed propped up by three pillows. He traced his memory for clues as to what led him here. The last thing he remembered was yelling at Leslie at the top of the stairs. He turned to check the time on his phone on the nightstand, but even that motion sent a rush of pain throughout his body.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Leslie entered the room and joined him on the bed. “I have some dinner being delivered. I ordered from that place that has the onion ring tower you like. How are you feeling?”
“You fell down the stairs.” Leslie paused, took a breath, and rephrased. “I may have been the reason you fell. We were fighting. You wouldn’t let it up. I turned when you grabbed my shoulder and then-”
She stopped, unable to finish.
“That goddamn chair,” he muttered. “I want it gone, Leslie.”
“Let’s not talk about this right now, okay? You need some rest. Here.” She handed him a pill and a glass of water. “This is leftover hydrocodone from when you had that back tooth pulled a couple of months ago.”
“Please get rid of the chair. Please.” He washed down the hydrocodone. He didn’t want to, but the pain overwhelmed him. His wife lightly touched his forearm.
“Get some rest.”