Halfway through, Scales wanted to lend a hand, but his offer was turned down.
Mamie quipped, "You think I can't handle this?"
Scales looked at her determination, and with both his hands already full with two large grocery bags, he conceded.
He didn't expect, though, that after climbing up to the seventh floor, Mamie was drenched in sweat, looking like she'd just run a marathon in the middle of summer.
In contrast, Scales seemed just fine, a bit more flushed than usual but breathing easy, only his heart rate slightly elevated.
Roseanne came to open the door for them.
She had already prepared slippers for her guests.
The doctor had said that Roseanne's injured foot was healing well and technically she could walk on it, but to be safe, he recommended she avoid exerting too much pressure and keep her movements to a minimum.
So, as soon as the door opened, Scales and Mamie saw her hopping on one foot, carefully setting down her injured foot without putting any weight on it.
“Oh, Roseanne! Take it easy!” Mamie rushed over to support her.
Scales followed Mamie's lead, lending a hand on the other side.
Seeing their cautious demeanor, Roseanne couldn't help but chuckle.
"I just twisted my ankle, not broke it..."
"Shush!" Mamie quickly interjected, "Don't say things like that, just in case! Knock on wood!"
They helped Roseanne to the couch.
Roseanne attempted to get up to pour them water, which made Mamie almost frantic—
"Your foot's still not right, what are you fussing over? We've got hands and feet, we can pour our own water!"
Scales, not much of a talker, nodded in agreement, echoing Mamie's every word with the enthusiasm of a bobbing bird.
"Roseanne, how come your foot isn't better yet? Didn't you get discharged because the doctor said it wasn't serious?"
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