That evening, the hospital discharged Jake, and the couple drove back to the hotel. The room felt significantly warmer now that the nightmare was over. Wanting to pamper his injured boyfriend, Ken ordered a lavish, hot meal from room service, setting the trays down on the small dining table.
Ken sat down and immediately began to eat, the hunger from his sleepless night finally catching up to him. But as he swallowed a spoonful of hot soup, he noticed Jake was just sitting there, entirely still, staring at him with a pointed expression.
"What's the problem?" Ken muttered, a bit of soup still in his mouth.
Jake looked at Ken for a brief moment, then pointedly tilted his head down, using his chin to signal toward his right arm, which was firmly locked inside the white cloth sling.
"Oh!" Ken gasped, his face flushing crimson as realization dawned on him. "It's your right arm! You're right-handed."
