John looked at Kathleen, his dark eyes growing deeper and deeper.
Kathleen had always been in charge of wiping, cleaning, and disinfecting his prosthetic leg in the past.
After all these years, she still wipes the prosthetic leg so skillfully.
All of a sudden, there are a thousand emotions running through him.
John took Kathleen's hand and said, "Don't wipe it..."
"I'm done wiping." Kathleen glanced at him and placed the disinfected prosthetic leg on the shelf.
"Alright, you've eaten your meal, you've gone to the toilet, and you've wiped your prosthetic leg. There should be nothing else, right?"
Kathleen said indifferently, "It's already so late. You should rest. I'll go out first."
"Who said I'm fine?" John looked at Kathleen and said, "I haven't wiped my body yet.
Corey had said that his wounds could not be touched with water, and he was a germaphobe, so he had to wipe his body before going to bed at night.
