At the Threshold
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 4: The Excuse
Morning came gray and wet again. The city was slow to wake — streets gleaming, cars hissing through puddles.
Anna sat on her couch, staring at her immobilized leg. The plaster looked almost unreal in the half-light: smooth, pale, perfectly still. She ran her fingertips along its surface. It was cool now, solid all the way through.
She tried flexing her knee instinctively, but the cast didn’t allow even a hint of movement. The resistance sent a strange thrill through her chest — part fear, part reassurance.
It was done. She had stopped.
But now came the harder part: the lie.
She had taken the day off already, claiming she’d “hurt herself.” But work wouldn’t stay quiet for long. By nine, her phone was already buzzing.
She stared at the screen — Mr. Kessler, her manager.
Her stomach tightened.
She answered, forcing her voice to sound weak but calm.
“Hi, it’s Anna.”
“Anna! Finally. I just saw your email. You had an accident?”
“Yeah,” she said, glancing down at the white cast. “Yesterday evening. I slipped coming out of the subway. Landed badly — twisted my leg. It’s ... uh, fractured. They put it in plaster.”
There was a short pause on the other end. She could almost hear him adjusting his tone, softening it.
“God. That sounds awful. Are you all right?”
“I will be,” she said. “Doctor says I need to rest for a few weeks. Keep it elevated, no stress.”
“Of course,” Kessler said quickly. “Take all the time you need. We’ll manage things here. Just send in your medical note when you can.”
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