Most days the rehab is a funny, inspiring, hopeful place to be. Some days the bombs go off.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to your colleague, but you should know too,” Gerry’s uncle Harold said when I answered the phone. “Gerry and his mother passed away on Monday. We’re waiting to hear from the coroner, but it looks like they overdosed on wine, painkillers, and Valium.” Boom.
I expressed my condolences and transferred the call to The Other Ken. Twenty minutes later I was still staring out the window when I got a text from The Boss.
I will enjoy today. I don’t know what tomorrow brings.
Needles Not For Knitting is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and anyone you might know is purely coincidental.
Needles Not For Knitting (c) 2017 by Ken Montrose
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