After lunch I decided to check. I knocked on my father-in-law’s door and gently opened it. He was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, hunched over, examining his back.

When I came closer, real fear washed over me. His back was covered in bluish-purple marks — different sizes, in various places along his spine, on his shoulder blades, even lower. There weren’t one or two — but more than a dozen. And they looked fresh.

— Oh my God… what happened to you? — I blurted out.

He quickly turned away and waved me off:

— I fell… You know how it is at my age. My legs give out.