Stuck. She couldn’t manage to get up, even after dragging herself to the door frame trying to haul herself upright. She’d have to press her alarm. A voice over the loudspeaker, “Alright Maggie, someone will be there soon.”
Dark, waiting. Cold seeped from the tiles, through her nightie, to her bones. Pain where she’d bumped her leg. She hadn’t reached the toilet, hoped that she could hold on.
Later; efficiently picked up, examined, toileted and tucked back into bed. Left alone, Maggie cried, lonely and helpless. “Nothing broken,” they’d said. Just her spirit.