Skinny, freckled forearms, honey-blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and a long, straight nose. Fine mascara lines the nurse’s blue eyes, eyes that ask, ‘Why?’
“The doctor will be along soon to put the stitches in,” the nurse says, smiling. “By the looks of it, you will only need one.”
Angry, numb, I look at my forearms and feel confused. What happened?