Turning over in bed required planning now. I learned that before opening my eyes. The mattress shifted beneath my shoulder, my left side pulled, and I stopped with one foot hanging off the edge.
Going back hurt. Continuing hurt. I continued because breakfast was less likely to be behind me.
Ren knocked while I was trying to put on a shirt without raising both arms. I told him to enter and immediately regretted the amount of fabric covering my face. He waited until I emerged.
"The wider sleeves," he said, looking toward the wardrobe.
"You could have said that yesterday."
"You were already dressed yesterday."
I looked at him.
His eyes dropped. "I'll bring the other one."
I let him. The wider shirt went on with less trouble, which made the advice more irritating than if it had been wrong. The bruise had darkened overnight. Breathing felt easier when I stayed still and worse when I forgot I wasn't supposed to reach across the bed. My palm remained tender beneath the dressing.
