Behind Closed Curtains

At physical therapy today, my cushioned table was next to a British fellow. We had a wall curtain between us, one with blue and green overlapping squares. I overhead “last, week I was in a little pain, I over did the calf raises.” And after I saw the therapist using the ultrasound on his calf, I figured – ah-ha. Calf injury. But how does that happen?

I am face down on the table, with ice and electrodes on my lower back. It’s actually relaxing, but I feel fidgety. I snag the US magazine from the shelf under my table. It’s an old one I think, about Pam Anderson’s wedding and Mel Gibson’s drunken slurs. Huh, that could probably be anytime.

Then I hear plunking, like someone counting change. A marble rolls on the floor in front of me. An oops, then a chuckle. I look right, under the curtain I see a pile of marbles next to a square Tupperware container. Then a foot, the British foot. The toes are picking up the marbles from the floor and transferring them to the container. One at a time.