“I’m not going to let them take my leg,” he stated firmly.
“I hear you,” she said, swallowing her distress. “I promise, Tanner.”
He wasn’t even remotely close to being convinced that she would keep her promise or that she could possibly understand why the mere thought of losing his leg terrified him in a way nothing else could. But he supposed she had a point. If he wanted to keep the damned leg, he had to learn how to take better care of it.
*****
Lance wasn’t much for texting. In fact, he often thought about how good it would feel to hurl his phone like a football into the middle of the lake near his house. Nevertheless, he kept glancing at it, waiting for some sign of life from Tanner. It was probably stupid of him, but—it couldn’t be helped. All morning, as he combed through work emails and client documents, he snuck glances at the screen of his phone, which consistently lit up with unimportant or annoying notifications. As the morning dragged on, he resigned himself to texting first, feeling uncertain and awkward as he composed it:
Lance Kingsley
I know you think my job is boring,
but I’ll have you know that this morning I got a paper cut from filing…
I’m clearly living on the edge.
He pressed send before he could second guess himself, then put the phone down, not expecting to get a reply anytime soon. To his surprise, it buzzed two seconds later.
Tanner Casey
Damn… had no idea how dangerous your job is.
You’re a really tough guy.
Lance Kingsley
Ha! That’s nothing.
Wait until I tell you all about carpal tunnel…
Tanner Casey
Please don’t. I really don’t think I could take it…
Lance Kingsley
Agreed. I’ll spare you the gory details.
How’s work? I still don’t know what you do now, btw.
Tanner Casey
Maybe I’m a psycho killer.
Or an exotic dancer.
Lance Kingsley
Are you?
Tanner Casey
Unfortunately, no. I sell lawn care.
Family business and all that.
And I don’t know how work is because my sister kidnapped me,
