Clara Knox tidied up the kitchen, took off her apron, and walked out.
"Where's your first-aid kit? Let me check your knee."
Edward Harper snapped back to reality. He had lied purely to indulge his selfish little whim—who knew she'd take it so seriously?
"I haven't stayed in this apartment for long, and I haven't gotten around to preparing a first-aid kit. Clara, it's not a big deal. Come sit down and rest for a bit."
"I'm not tired. Let me disinfect it for you first."
Clara spoke as she rummaged through the living room cabinet, eventually pulling out a box marked with a red cross, looking it over top to bottom.
"Isn't this a first-aid kit?"
Edward's throat tightened. Sure enough, one lie required a hundred others to cover up.
"I forgot I had it at home."
Clara didn't notice the discomfort on his face. Holding the first-aid kit, she walked over to the couch and knelt to roll up his pants leg.