Carphology

Crumpled sheets

The sheets are crumpled from her fumbling. She has pushed the eiderdown onto the floor. Her breathing is irregular. It will not be long now.

She calls out. In her head it was well formulated sentence, but what comes out is somewhere between a gurgle and a yell. As a coughing fit ravages her chest, one of her grandchildren comes into the room, tears streaming from his red eyes. He tries to give her a glass of water, but her fingers have forgotten how to grip it, and it breaks when it meets the stone floor. She sits up. She wants to clean up the mess. Not just the broken glass the whole room. And herself too for that matter. She has been in bed for days. She mumbles her intention to her grandchild who pushes her gently down onto the pillow, and she forgets what she was about to do. Her grandchild leaves the room in search of a floor mop and a broom.

Something tightens its claws around her heart as if to rip it out and she thrashes in the bed for a second. Then she is still. Completely still.

I step up to the bed and help her up. She is puzzled that the pain left her so suddenly. Before her grandchild can return and confuse her further, I lead her outside into the sunlight.

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2 Comments

  1. This one was so immersive, made me genuinely get goosebumps.

    Reply
    • Mission accomplished!
      Thank you for reading,
      I hope you will enjoy my other posts as well 🙂

      Reply

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