Everything smelled of mangoes. His left arm felt funny.
Mrs. Yamamoto reached to help Shawn up from the ground. She came with a strong cloud of L'Aimant perfume. Picking Shawn up by the cuff of his uniform shirt, she steadied him against the door of a nearby utility closet.
“What’s matter?” Mrs. Yamamoto asked in clipped English. “You hurt?”
Shawn raised his broken left arm.
“My arm moved.”