The Wheelchair in the Choir Loft ….

I was eight years old.

And already in a wheelchair.

People always asked what happened, though never directly to me. Adults preferred whispering around children with injuries, as if pain became softer when spoken indirectly. A childhood accident had left me unable to walk, and by then I had already learned certain truths about the world.

People pitied quietly.

Stared openly.

And assumed loudly.