“You hungry?” I asked Fletcher.“Not really.”I smiled and shrugged at him. “Well, I need something to forget about that delicious chicken din...er. You can have coffee if you want.”“Sure, why not!”I nodded and pulled into the diner’s parking lot. It was getting late, and it was after the evening rush. I had been here any number of times over the years. It’s a nice place owned by a Greek immigrant and usually staffed by members of his innumerable family. We parked and went inside.I held the door. With each passing moment, the aroma grew more noticeable. Pausingto take stock over this, he concluded that he must have in fact beenbreathing in order to be able to smell - he just was not able to feelhis chest move. This insight lightened his anxiety - maybe he wasgetting better?As if on-cue, a distant, muffled buzz drifted into his ear, confirminghis suspicion that his faculties were indeed slowly returning. He wasstill unable to lift a finger, or even ~feel~ his finger. But as thebuzz. More

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