I sat in Mom's new office, the setting sun casting long shadows over the interior of the space, glass glowing in that almost supernatural way it had when the sun hit it just right. I stared into the red horizon, knowing it foretold a good day tomorrow, that color. And wondering if I'd get to see it.
Morbid much?
Mom circled to my side, sitting in one of the white leather seats, handing me a cup of coffee while she sighed and leaned back. She'd been dead just a few hours ago. Dead, gone, soul missing, just a shell of a corpse left behind. And here she was breathing, cheeks glowing softly in the light of the sunset, as beautiful and powerful as ever.
Were those new lines around her eyes, though? More threads of white in her lustrous black hair? Had dying made any impact on her or was I the only one who felt a tightening choke hold of terror at the thought of her lying there on the floor, lost to me?