Because I do what he says

I have a fracture.

Tiny to be sure. Two tiny bits of bone that escaped from a not much bigger one.

They've been nagging me for the past two weeks. Dumb bits stealing skate time. Making my middle go soft(er) and rocklike leg muscles melt into puddles of fat.

There's no physical proof of them. No lumps. No bruise even. Maybe a slight limp if I overuse. Stand too long. Try to dance. Try to skate.

It's less than dime-sized, the place where the mean doctor shoved his thumb and made it hurt. He dug in all over my Fred Flintstone foot and not a peep until bingo.

And there they were like two little pebbles. No, too big... Tic Tacs But smaller even still. And hanging out where they don't belong.

I don't have big boot to drag along or crutches or even tape. I can wear pretty black flats and no one notices a thing. But even without a visible wound, I worry, what will be the next bit to escape? Brain out the ears? Teeth like in an anxious night sweat? Hair off the top like an aging fella?