My knees start to ache. It’s not a lie. I’m in pain, I tell you. My body is slowly approaching the point where it’s difficult to pretend that I am okay. If I didn’t keep my body tightly restrained, I wouldn’t even last ten minutes. There’s no way to prove how feeble I am. I can’t hang around with the old people or concoct some excuse to shoo the young people out of their seats. This is because my body looks to be the picture of health until right before it reaches the point of being cruelly beyond repair.
