SPEECH IMPEDIMENT
“Does that hurt?”
Rigid with agony, breathing arrested mid-inspiration, fingers digging into the arms of the chair, thrust skull pinning the headrest, she waited for the end of eternity – waited for the drill to stop. It stopped.
Limp and drained, she breathed again.
“Did that hurt?” he asked impassively.
Margaret Wilde ©2007
Thursday, January 18, 2007
SPEECH IMPEDIMENT - Short Story by Margaret Wilde
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