Donald sat up as I got closer to the bed. He asked, "How do you feel?"
My brain was empty. I shook my head.
"You got nothing, eh? Well…. Are you confused? Are you elated? Are you grossed out? Are you wondering what else we might do? Are you sorry we did this at all? Are you—"
I chuckled. "Stop already. I don’t know. I probably won’t know for a couple of days." I sat at the foot of the bed, not realizing at the time that it was as far from Donald as I could be and still sit down; using a chair at this point could have seemed distant, and I didn’t yet know if that’s what I wanted to express.
He tilted his head. "Really? Your processing is that slow?"
"It’s that thorough."
"Of course. I’m sorry. Everyone has their own way of figuring things out."
"Change of subject. Can you tell me now
