The canopy beds curtains were old, faded, even ripped in a few places. David turned them gingerly in his hands. His grandmother had loved that canopy bed so dearly. She’d slept on it since the evening she’d married his grandfather, every night until she was hospitalized. Now? Who would treasure that bed? Even less likely: who would tie back these curtain the way her frail hands had? An entire world of lives had blacked out with his Gramma’s death. Not just her own. Grampa’s too, and David’s own mother’s. Gramma had been the only breath left to speak of his mother. Now there was no one. All his strength was gone. David sat on a taped box and threw the curtains to the floor. It was over.
No related posts.
Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.
If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing it!
