Benny
By nine the next morning, Nixx had violated the spirit of his discharge instructions at least six times.
I knew because I was keeping count.
The instructions said he could move around as tolerated, avoid strenuous activity, take his medication, and return immediately if certain symptoms showed up. Nixx had translated that into permission to wander around looking for things to do until somebody stopped him.
I found him in the kitchen reaching toward the top cabinet.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a glass.”
“There are glasses beside your head.”
“I want this one.”
“You have never cared which glass you drink from.”
He stretched higher, and his ribs objected before I had to. Nixx froze with his jaw clenched while I took down the glass, filled it, and put it on the table.
“Excel
