She looked frightened, embarrassed and exhausted.
“What happened?” I asked.
She took a breath.
“I climbed onto a little stool.”
She explained that she had been trying to reach something when she lost her balance.
She fell.
When she tried to get back up, the old basement door had shifted and jammed behind her.
She had been trapped.
Then, before I could even process what I was seeing, footsteps came rushing down the stairs.
Alex appeared carrying a pharmacy bag.
The moment he saw Dorothy on the floor, the color drained from his face.
“Dorothy!”
He immediately dropped the bag and rushed to her side.
He looked genuinely terrified.
There was no anger.
No irritation.
No attempt to hide anything.
Just fear.
I called for assistance while Alex carefully helped make Dorothy comfortable.
Thankfully, the injury wasn’t as serious as I had feared.
Her ankle was badly sprained, but nothing was broken.
