SEAN ENNIS
A CONVALESCENT
Gabe has been hit by a car! He’s ok! He bruised his spleen! More details to come.
What I wanted to report on first is that this morning the message on the white board in the
kitchen said, “Look Out!” I would have said something regardless of Gabe’s incident.
The accident was at very slow speed and purely accidental. We live at the top of a hill and many
lost drivers choose to turn around in our driveway. What they don’t expect is Gabe chasing his
basketball. Crash! Screams! The consecution of procedures here is familiar and dull once we know the
outcome. Two days observed in the hospital, a tender belly. A dented hood, frazzled nerves.
But, rejoice with me, I have beaten anxiety. There’s this trick I made up where I use the windshield wipers of my mind when it creeps in. Blood pressure low except when it’s checked.
And, oh Gabe, one of his virtues is bravery, hunched over and cursing, but we let him. The
driver is an elderly woman who calls every night. She gives off the impression that she is guilty about
more abstract things in her life and now wants to pay Gabe’s hospital bills, which are not extensive and
already covered. She has dropped off, carefully, a board game he has no interest in.
No doubt, the accident has disrupted my reflections and I have not forgotten the message on
the white board. That investigation is ongoing.
Sean Ennis is the author of CHASE US: Stories (Little A) and his flash fiction has recently appeared in Passages North, New World Writing, Hobart, (mac)ro(mic) and BULL. More of his work can be found at seanennis.net


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