It was a pretty good deal wasn’t it? A pair of useless eyes in exchange for on call minions. Oh the early days were grand.
My eldest daughter was always able to mollify me, she’s an excellent salesman – pardon me, person. She really could sell anything – often did too, until rehab made her more discerning. Oh yes, the pitch for Hamilton Manor was perfect. I was even promised a corner suite, something my husband, bless his incontinent soul, always aspired to in life before diapers.
Funny, at first I thought the shadowy movements in the corner of my eyes were ghosts. I didn’t tell anyone about them of course. And then I realized that was al I was seeing – shadows and shapes. And then lickety split I had a staff of people doing things for me. Even things I didn’t’ want done for me and had to fight to keep dominion over – I’m legally blind not legally useless. You can imagine darlings that the joke of being to Hamilton Manor born wore thin fairly quickly.
8 min on the F train, 5.12.14
prompt sourced from Handybook.com subway ad
0 Comments