Brakes are one of those things you never think about. That was the thought that was running through Jeff’s head as his wheelchair was being pushed down the hall. His leg ached and the nurses were talking about a movie or a play…he wasn’t really listening. Brakes. The state required yearly car inspections but Jeff was too young, too untouchable to worry about things like that; hell, he didn’t even have insurance.

He wondered how young the girl on the bike was.

He wondered if she was being wheeled down another artificially lit corridor somewhere. He didn’t need to wonder about one thing, though. He knew she wasn’t being pushed in a wheelchair.