Chapter 27: Every Exit

At one twenty-six Sunday morning, Su failed to stand. Her right hip took the weight, slipped, and put her back on the narrow bed. The springs gave a complaint beneath her. Qing caught the cup before it fell and set it squarely on the floor. The room above the garage smelled of motor oil, wet timber, and the ginger broth Su could no longer keep warm inside her. A gray Subaru waited under the awning. Mud covered its doors. The bumper sticker declared that mountains were calling, as if mountains had acquired telephones. Qing crouched and pressed two fingers against Su's ankle. "Again." "The result will not improve through repetition." "That principle has never stopped you." Su planted both feet. Her left knee straightened. The right remained bent, its bones uncertain beneath human skin. She reached the doorframe before her hip failed again. Qing took her weight and lowered her…