“Ouch, watch where you’re going,” Kirk said, as once more Toby ran his wheelchair into the corridor wall. “My God, this is just like how you drive a car.”
“Is not. I think there’s something wrong with the wheel.” Toby stopped the wheelchair and knelt down to inspect it.
Kirk was being released after spending a depressing night at the hospital. He’d told the nurse he could easily walk out on his own, but Toby had made a big deal of how he wanted to wheel Kirk out. He’d given in, much to his regret now.
Today his best friend wore skinny black jeans and a black silk buttoned-down shirt. He’d brought Kirk a change of clothes when he came to pick him up, consisting of old ratty jeans Kirk thought he’d thrown away and a Grateful Dead shirt. He didn’t like the Dead, but one of his mother’s hus
