R

That it would become about bones he had not fathomed, at least not in the wintery chill of February 2011.

'It's the fifth rib' said Dr.Jones, handing him the x-ray chart.
'Here', tapping his silver ballpoint to a cloudy mass on the left, '5th rib on the right. Luckily not too bad and should heal on its own, but be careful on the ice again and lifting weights et cetera. I mean, you're a doctor yourself so really don't need to tell you any of this,' he said smiling, ushering R off the exam table.

R grabbed his coat from the back of the door, and thanking the doctor, made a quick exit to the biting cold outside. Tried to make an exit rather, flinching as the bruise, still too new, to allow for his usual brisk pace.

.........

Several months later as she lay in bed, S would dream of him again.
Of gingerly touching a face, bare of any stubble. Of gingerly touching a rib. She wished she could figure out who this stranger was in her dreams, why it felt as if she had known him a long, long time


(to be continued)