The Privilege of Health

It was her disease. No one else's. Like every one is, no matter the name or how many others have had it. She owned it in her heart like child. She wore it in every movement like a second skin.

It was her disease. Hers alone and we all knew it.

But the cure. That always belonged to someone else.

We'd go to the pharmacy sometimes and look through the window at all the medicines we couldn't afford.