We are going out, he grabs my coat and holds it open for me.
“Broken wing first!”, he blurts out quickly before I have even moved.
I look at him, “Which is it?”
He smiles, knows I am not kidding, I am hopeless. He nods at my right arm and holds the sleeve coat forward so that I can slip my hurt arm into it first.
I wince when I move it, which makes him cringe.
“Careful Ma’am!”, he admonishes me. He eases the coat up over my shoulder and I slip my other arm into it.
We head for the door.