Greyson
My
size thirteen wingtips kicked a couple of oval pebbles until they were sucked
into a crack in the sidewalk. Other indentations in the walkway were overgrown
with green things. The near constant rain made living in Siletz Bay like taking
up residence on the surface of a Chia Pet. I’d been advised to wear more
comfortable footwear by the prosthetic experts. But I had an image to maintain,
leg or no leg.
The
Canon camera I’d inherited from my mom after her passing hung around my neck
most days. Clicking pics of married men sharing their beds with their
assistants had become my bread and butter.
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