While Bluebell took his coffee and went back to queue up the next episode, Cat waited for his own drink–some bagged English breakfast tea–to finish steeping. From where he stood, he could see most of his friend’s apartment. Bare walls, basic furnishings, a freshly-opened stack of paper plates despite the presence of a dishwasher. Places where the carpet was coming up and places where defects had been hastily painted over by maintenance. A cracked door leading into the bedroom- and for a one-bedroom apartment, the rent wasn’t terrible.

Looking around, Cat spied a small pile of fliers and booklets on the kitchen counter. The print of the topmost brochure was large. It was impossible for him to miss even if he wasn’t trying to slyly read it.

“Alex, what’s this?” He held up one of the brochures. “Physical therapy school?”

Bluebell stiffened before turning around to look at him. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking I might do that. You know, after Quill’s business is finished. One of the schools around here has a good PT program.”

“I think that’s great!” Cat set the brochure down and walked back to the couch, mug of tea in hand. “So why physical therapy?”

“I still like medicine. I still want to help people. It might be a better fit for me.” Neither of them brought up why.

Cat nodded silently. It was obvious to him that Bluebell should be doing something like that instead of dusting off his boyhood marksmanship skills.

Bluebell watched the paused TV screen. “But, I’m not sure if I can handle more student loans. Working towards being an MD put me in enough debt.”

“You’d be good at it.” Cat said, steeling his tone for a moment. Then his expression softened. “You can be my physical therapist next time I break my leg.”

Bluebell snorted, “I still can’t believe you jumped out of that window.”

-

9.18.2024
-

Palestinian aid:
Gaza fundraiser/Gofundme campaigns
Operation Olive Branch
Boycotts
Buy eSims, 2
PCRF
Taawon
Life for Gaza