7
WILLA put a lot of effort into not reacting to his question. Her hands only stilled for a moment, before she answered, “Yes, Trevor. That’s his name. Did you ride any yesterday?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.
“Yeah, I actually did. To and from work in Richmond. And maybe I’m just imagining it, but it seemed like my leg hurt a lot less when I took off the peg this time. So thanks for the advice.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So you work with a lot of gimps?”
She wished he’d stop referring to himself in that manner. But she knew a few amputees who’d done this, and also knew it was useless to argue with them about it. Like trying to get a rapper to dump the N-word. Once an amputee appropriated a slur like “gimp,” there was often no convincing him to be politically correct.
Still, she
