Regrets while yelling

Lady Bianca had never been a subtle woman, not before the stroke and not after it. Even sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in a soft shawl the nurse insisted she wear, she carried the same fierce spark in her eyes. And tonight, that spark was burning hot enough to drag her across the driveway.

The staff member pushing her chair looked terrified, glancing back every few seconds as if hoping she would change her mind.

She didn’t.

“Move faster,” she ...