The Fifth Law

Oh, poor Izzy. You should not be running like that.” Nana coughed. “You look more short of breath than me.”

“And you’ve never looked so sick.” Izrael examined Nana’s lips and fingertips. They had turned whiter than her milky skin. Her wrist pulse oximeter started beeping, telling him that her blood was crying for oxygen. He glanced at the control pad attached to the wheelchair. “Oxygen’s nearly gone.” Wires linked the panel to the oxygen tank strapped behind her wheelchair. A tube slithered from the tank before tapering into a nasal cannula. The panel’s tiny red bulb was blinking. “This will take a minute.”

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