Pressed into wheelchairs, blankets draped over their knees, they stared out the cafeteria’s bay windows at children playing in the schoolyard across the street.
“Makes ya feel like a dinosaur, huh,” he croaked.
“Well, I’m happy to be your She-Rex.”
They shared a toothless laugh, bony fingers reaching out, interlocking.
Râna Campbell, a revolutionary in a past life, is a darn good editor.
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