Her skin was colder than usual, but it was still just as soft. My mother had always had the softest skin. This was one of the only things about her body that hadn't changed in the past few months. Her once beautiful face had aged decades. Her body, of which I had always been envious, had wasted away. Every bone was now visible. The whites of her
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Beautifully written as always.
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This is a touching, beautifully rendered, story. You really did find the beauty and pathos in an experience that was unfair, and, as you say, far from the dignity of a storybook.
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This was a beautiful entry.
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