Kiss me,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. The white bandage covering her chin prevented her lips from opening wide. “Please, Stan. Kiss me.” This time the decibel a bit higher.

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Stan’s dark brown eyes cut from the novel on his lap to his wife lying in the narrow hospital bed. Sterile white blankets covered her petite frame. He stood and leaned over the bars that prevented her from falling out. The odor of Lysol mixed with dried blood infused the air. With eyes focused on the opposite wall, he kissed the top of her head. Just a peck, just enough to feel the brush of her red hair against his lips.....

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Dry Bandages was published in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine April 2016 issue.
The story may be read on their site.