Short Story - My Friend Fran

Im not getting each younger and I befoolt accept poisonous language on my interruption, barked Fran.\nMy offshoot impression of Frances McNichols wasnt cogent as the first oral communication out of her mouth. The moment I first laid look on her, I persuasion she was going to be jobless by the end of our channelise. As she walked into the building, she shuffled along slowly with her proper(a) leg dragging buns her. By the clip she got to the time clock, she was out of breath, and her face was flushed. I couldnt believe that she was my rosiness nurse. Upon closer inspection, I notice that her hands were mangled from arthritis and how agonise it mustiness have snarl to even hold a pencil. The trouble that it must hit her to start an IV and if the patient was in excruciating pain as well. Her hair was stark(a) though, not a undivided hair out of place, and her pretend was flawless. My first thought was that she must have permanent fundamental law and fewbody th at fixes her hair onward she comes into work because there was no way that she would have been adequate to hold a sponge for that long without being in pain.\nI worked with Fran that nighttime and listened to her sing about her life. She was such(prenominal) a fascinating person and had such interesting stories. I would express joy at the way she would converse to the detention officers that shared the same(p) shift and would grace us with their presence. To my surprise she lived alone. She was in her 70s and was still unify to her economise and had twins. Her husband lived in Washington because he detest the heat, and she lived in Arizona because she detested the rain. She lived overseas while her husband worked as an engineer.\nOne night at work, I was in the boss office doing some filing that day shift left for night shift to finish, and I spotted a piece of paper with my pick out on it.\nFran, look that has my wee on it, I called to her.\nWhat?! That isnt very smart is it, Fran answered, tear the paper off the corkboard.