When the Flowers Bloom, I Am Already Free

In the third year after my diagnosis of brittle bone disease, Quinton was the only reason I kept holding on. He padded every corner of every table, laid non-slip mats across the floor, filled the bathroom with grab bars, and even lifted me out of bed with the greatest care. "Take it slow. I won't let you fall." Until Lena came back from overseas. She had studied rehabilitation medicine, and she said Quinton's methods were only reinforcing my identity as a patient.