This post is submitted to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers challenge.
Now the spiders have started to take over. The potted flowers have also begun their decay. I have never dusted since that day.
Just after dark I turn on the lights in her room. I bring her a small glass of wine. I turn on the television to a program that she watched almost every night.
I come back in an hour and turn the television off and open the book she is currently reading.
I return to the kitchen and wash and dry the dishes I have used to prepare my dinner.
She never eats. She never complains.