Her place was tidy in a way that immediately made Gary feel like he’d turned up underprepared for adulthood.

Not sterile. Not showy. Just organised. Shoes lined up neatly by the door. Surfaces mostly clear. The faint smell of coffee and something citrusy that suggested cleaning products used voluntarily. Gary clocked all of this in the first five seconds and felt a sudden, irrational urge to apologise for his existence.

“Sit down,” she said gently, gesturing toward a chair at the small table. “I’m just going to have a look. Nothing dramatic.”

Gary sat, hands clenched on his knees, posture stiff. His jaw throbbed steadily, as if trying to warn him about trusting calm situations.

She moved with easy efficiency, washing her hands, explaining what she was doing as she went. No rushing. No surprises. Gary found himself clinging to the sound of her voice more than the words themselves.

“Open,” she said.

He did, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the sore side of his face.

There was a pause. A quiet, focused pause that made his stomach tighten.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Yeah. That’s infected.”

Gary let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “I knew it.”

“It’s not great,” she continued, already moving into explanation mode, “but it’s not hopeless.”

That word landed hard.

Hopeless had been hovering in Gary’s thoughts for days now, uninvited but persistent.

She talked him through what she could see, what it likely meant, and what needed to happen next. Antibiotics. A proper appointment. No shortcuts. No heroic nonsense.

“This isn’t something you fix with pliers,” she added, giving him a look.

Gary grimaced. “You’d be surprised what crossed my mind.”

She laughed once, then grew serious again. “You did the right thing coming here.”

For the first time in a while, Gary believed that might actually be true.

Follow her plan properly → Page 55

Get overwhelmed and bail → Page 18