‘I remember you as a strong woman,’ says the lady, working the sewing machine with her good hand as her stump holds the garment steady. ‘Do you want to have a go?’ she asks cheerfully.
‘Honestly, I’m knackered,’ said Karen miserably, shaking her head before saying: ‘I don’t like showing vulnerability . . . All you will see is a brave smile, but deep down I’m suffering. I just want people to stop judging me.’
And we will, love, we will, I thought. Just as soon as you stop pretending you can’t pick up a potato
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