Joe’s least favorite nurse appeared again around lunchtime, her sensible shoes squeaking faintly against the linoleum as she marched in and flipped on the overhead light. The sudden brightness stabbed at his eyes, dragging him out of a restless half-sleep where pain and dreams blurred together.
“Don’t pretend you’re unconscious,” she said briskly as she grabbed the remote and raised the bed. “You don’t heal properly by laying around.”
Joe groaned as the mattress shifted beneath him, pressure flaring through his ribs and knees. His muscles protested, screaming as gravity settled in places that still felt broken.
“You really need to be walking. Get the blood flowing. That’s what helps with healing the most.”
“Well, my broken knees would disagree,” Joe muttered, his voice thick with sleep
