That’s a good sign, but I guess it’s not too much of a surprise. You’re just about as sick as you can be.”
“I feel better now,” she said, “but I’m going to have to take one more dose tonight. Then if that doesn’t work, tomorrow morning I’ll go down and see the doctor again.”
On Sunday evening after supper Joe was sitting in his favorite chair by the window when he felt someone coming up behind him. He turned around quickly and saw Rosie standing there with a tray full of food on which were two plates, two cups and saucers, napkins folded into triangles over them so they looked like flowers at her waist; some kind of pie or cake cut into four slices stacked on each plate; another cup half filled with what appeared to be coffee; and along with all this an assortment of packages—coin-operated laundry detergent (somehow Joe had never learned how it worked), soap bars for general cleaning purposes (he couldn’t even remember whether they smelled nice or bad), electric hand-dryer (he didn’t know how it worked either).
When she placed everything on top of his table he returned her smile. “You really got me fixed up here!” he exclaimed unexpectedly breaking out laughing for no reason at all except that she always did things so perfectly neat—like making sure the door was unlocked before leaving home for work each day or bringing back clean towels from the laundry