Over the 5000 mark (so on target), 44760 to go. Today, I learned that Iris had once been married to an Irishman. I’m not sure if it ended in death or divorce, she hasn’t told me that yet.
Iris woke to the sound of someone moving papers close to her head. She turned her head to find a young man sitting at her bedside, his lap full of papers he was vainly trying to organize inside a manila folder.
Good morning, Mrs. McClatchy, he said, his eyes moving over her face as if to asses if his greeting was going to be welcomed or rebuffed. But Iris approved of his manners and returned his greeting with a small smile as she extracted her right hand from underneath the blankets and extended it to him. It wasn’t often that these young people called her by her married name or by any title at all. They were more inclined to excessive friendliness, referring to her as Iris before they had even been properly introduced.
Pleased to meet you, she said, her hand waiting in the air.
He struggled to free a hand from the stack of papers, then gently shook her hand.
I’m the new case worker for your ward. I’m trying to learn more about each person this week and this morning, it is my pleasure to meet with you, if that is all right with you.