"Arrrgh," David groaned, a low, pained sound escaping his lips as he shifted slightly in bed. His left foot throbbed with a dull soreness that hadn't been there yesterday—or at least not this bad. He reached down and rubbed it gently, rotating the ankle with practiced care. As he did, the memory of the moment came back—how, in the heat of the chaos, he'd used that same leg to kick the car door open.
Now, there was a pulsing ache running from the arch up to his shin. Nothing broken. Just sore. He grimaced and slowly lowered the foot to the floor, pressing down with caution. The sting that followed wasn't unbearable, just a reminder—sharp enough to make him wince, soft enough to convince himself he could manage.
