Page 345 - Anonymous
P. 345
"How we doing there, Mrs. G?"
She's leaning against the headboard, her
soup half-finished, her eyes shut. She
groans, and the spoon slips from her
hand completely. I move the tray away
from her, wipe her mouth, and settle her
comfortably onto the pillow.
"Good night, Mrs. G," I say as I
turn off her lights and go downstairs to
wait.
