Jodi Lea Stewart

Loving and Writing About the Southwest and the South

The other day, a man named Scott came to fix the dishwasher in a house we lease. He was bowed in the shoulders and wore knee-high therapeutic socks. He walked slightly lopsided and breathed heavily with effort as he bent to check out the appliance. His knees hurt. His hands were swollen with neuropathic pain. Over the course…

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