Savage
“Come in," I yell at the tentative knock on the door to the apartment I'm staying in over my parent's garage.
“Are you okay?" Malone asks as she takes in the picture of me, carrying bags as she comes inside.
I'm sure to most people it looks like I'm a science experiment gone wrong. I'm lying on the couch with a contraption on my leg, watching a TV show. “It's cold therapy," I explain. “It continuously has compression and sends penetrating cold to what's being healed. I overextended a little today, so I'm spending a little extra time hooked up," I explain as I close my eyes, letting the machine work it's magic because it feels so good.
“Did your PT say it was okay to overdo it?" she asks as she puts the bags on my counter.
“He's the one who told me it was okay to run in the poo
