“You’re bleeding from your side,” I said, pointing at the dark stain on his shirt. “I had my appendix removed a couple days ago,” he said. “Probably tore a stitch or something.” “Or something,” I said. “Maybe you should have that checked.” “My sister makes curtains for a living,” he said as he struggled to get up. “She can sew me up good as any doctor.” “And probably offers a variety of thread color,” I said. “It sounds like an excellent plan.”
