Jeremy Bennett wrote:

I lack the grace to say I am sorry
I lack the power to say you are right
I lack the will to try and fight
I lack the love to be apart

nice opening.

I closed and locked the door to my clinic, the

make into two sentences

 purple hinted sky of the evening

closing about me like a cool blanket.  It had been a long, rough day. At

eight o'clock this

morning, three thugs, escorted by the police, had been brought in with

broken bones and

contusions. Two of them were serious enough to be left with permanent

scars from their

encounter with whatever had hit them.  They had kept

don't think you need that 'had'

 mumbling something about "It's

the evil, it's the evil" over and over.

here I'd say 'repeatedly' since you doubled up the 'It's evil' bit, and
repeating the prose back to back like that is clunky.

 After fixing their wounds, I remanded them to the

police, putting the half remembered

half-remembered

 thought that I should recognize that phrase out of my

mind, then continued to fill out paperwork.

Thinking my day would go slowly after the early morning excitement, I

settled

down for my normal patient load.  It was good to see the elderly gentlemen

who always

seemed to stop by with a general ache or pain, the young mother who's

whose

 daughter had

fallen and hurt herself, or the young men who had a strain from working to

too

 hard here or

there.  It was shaping up to be a totally

drop 'totally', it's unncessary

normal day, until, at ten thirty; the police again

visited my shop, this time carrying one of their own.  Evidently, whatever

or whoever had

taken out the thugs this morning was not going to discriminate between

police and

criminals.

With a sigh, I set about fixing the young officers

officer's

lots of small errors in this

 broken fingers, and splinting up

his fractured ribs.

You can splint a fractured rib?

 Giving him some herbs, I set him on his way, but not before again

hearing the mutterings about some "spiky haired idiot" who had done this

to him.

Chuckling quietly to myself, I remembered a time when I had known someone

a

lot like that.  Always fighting, and brawling, not to mention getting

himself into trouble,

That Ryouga Hibiki, what a troublemaker

, I finished my shopping, then retired to a local shop for some tea and
sushi.

Upon returning to my clinic, I was amazed to see one of the local

'Casanovas,' to

did the term exist in he time?

I finished my afternoon with a house appointment with a local family whose
youngest had been sick with fever for several days.  They were a poor

family, living well

outside the normal borders of the town, and it's

its

I reflected on my day as I strolled down the small road to my home.  Yes,

it had

been quite a busy day.  I was also reminded of Jiro and my conversation

with him.  It had

been many years since I had entertained guests in my home.  I was fairly

sure the last

time had been when Kenshin and his family had come up for a visit.  Kenji

had run

around, causing nothing but a general stir when he had suddenl.

not sure what you're trying to say there.

*****

Well, it's not like treating one more person today isn't going to hurt

me," as I

bandage the silly rooster heads much-violated skull.

nice little one shot.

DB Sommer

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