Sunday, July 2, 2017

Surfer On The Drift

From today -

Since I'd died, Mom had acquired a gray streak in her hair.  The rest of her looked more or less the same. Dad looked a lot older.  His hairline had receded.  His muscle density had lessened, decayed, and he seemed jumpy.  Any sound outside drew him to the window or to the door, squinting, looking out like some sort of threat assembled on every moment, come to collect his defenseless baby girl.

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