I browse the jewelry, looking for something for someone whose name isn't coming to mind, but someone who makes me happy - I think - and also sad. Someone who should have the perfect necklace or ring or whatever...
"Good news," says the nurse as she walks by, "Miss Clara will be fine. She just needed a band-aid. We gave her a rainbow one."
I nod slowly. "Good. She'll like that."
This jewelry is a wasteland of style. Oh, there's another shelf of it.
The doctor comes over to me. "The burglar is stable. And don't worry; we were able to remove the geranium from his ear. He's going to be okay."
I am overcome with concern. "But doc," I say, "is the geranium going to make it?"
My eyes open. I look at the clock. Ugh. Maybe I should stop eating sugar after 8 pm. It always gives me the weirdest dreams.
With a vague sense of being way too mature for my own good, I roll over to go back to...
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