Sharon’s lips were chapped. Raw. She licks them when she gets self-conscious, and bites them when she’s nervous. I’m not sure what was making her so eager to gnaw her lips off today, but I haven’t seen her this bad since she was an intern. These levels of anxiety are supposed to be reserved for her patients.

Sharon kept walking the other way when she saw me coming. This is something with her marriage; she’s my sister-in-law and seems to think that I’ll always take my brother’s side, though we’ve enjoyed many laughs over what an ass he can be.