goggles

WHEN MICHAEL PICKED me up from the hospital in his old white pickup late that night, I was exhausted.
He handed me my spare pair of glasses first thing and I put them on gratefully.
“Have to do something about that,” I said. “Maybe sports goggles.”
“Seems like a good idea,” he said. “How’s Stan?”

Brief Cases, Day One, Page 379


I sat at the little table in Butters’s apartment kitchen. I had my duster off and both arms resting on the table with my palms up. Butters sat across from me wearing loose exercise clothes. An EMT’s toolbox sat on the table next to him, and he was currently peering at my hands through his thick glasses, which he now wore in the form of securely fastened athletic goggles.

Peace Talks Chapter 13, Page 115