Sitting opposite me In the doctor's waiting room was an elderly woman, her aluminum walker parked nearby. She wore a coat of aquamarine, black kit gloves, soft leather boots,
a deep blue turban wound around curls of steel-gray hair. Above her, a water-
colored mountain, horizons of soil coursing vertically beneath, was crookedly hung. Through thick glasses, she gazed at me, creasing the furrows of her faded skin. Later, my back spasmed and screamed, and now I'm walking bent over like a sciatic old man.


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