She held out her hands. The skin leading up to her elbows was dry and there was a scar on her left arm. The gel that she spread on her arm had a bite to it, a sting she would have called it. She was no longer able to bend her arm after the accident and the weakness in her hand made her spill things. Her mother had bought her that frilly pair of gloves to help her hide her imperfections but with each passing day it seemed the list of problems grew. She had tried to call her dad but with all the COVID lockdowns she was no longer able to keep tabs on his whereabouts.
©2020 CBialczak Fiction