My Wife's Choice That Nearly Killed Me

To make my dialysis treatments easier, I rented the hospital’s closest parking space—at a steep price.

But every time it rained, my wife’s childhood friend would beg for it, claiming his asthma couldn’t handle a dash through the rain. His eyes would glisten with practiced misery.

I always refused.

“There’s a public lot right next door. Just a few steps away. Why do you have to take mine?”

When my wife found out, she exploded.

“Can’t you show a little compassion? He had an asthma attack and nearly died on the road!”

I frowned.