fiction #8? the bookstore. Jillie finds the first book that might help.

“Ann Boroch?”  I repeated as I stared numbly at the title of the book in my hands, Healing Multiple Sclerosis.

“Do you think it’s a hard ‘k‘ sound?  Or a swoosh type finish? OR is it like chai tea?”  I asked Anya, annoyed at everyone who has ever had a hard last name to pronounce.

“What does it matter?”  Annie asked.

“It matters to me,” I said with an edge to my voice.  “Why can’t anything be simple with this beast?”

I turned the blue soft-hard-back over, looking for a hint of some sort of solution without having to read the 300+ pages.

“Here, you read it first, you’re a fast reader,”  I said shoving the copy into Annie’s hands.

“Do you want me too?  Why don’t we read it together?  We can hold a mini-book club meeting once we’re finished.  Or even check in as we read.  Come on girl.  You gotta read this stuff.  I’ll do it with you,” she said softly.

“Fine.  I just hope I don’t have to jump on the green juice wagon or whatever it is that’s popular with you kids these days – if I do it, you’re doing it too.” I said stiffly grabbing a second copy.

xo

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