
I was stacking my groceries on the worn, black conveyor belt, preparing them for scan and payment. During such acts, I usually avoid people. An expert selective-listener, I’m very good at ignoring the chaos and chatter around me.
She knew she was dying, and she was scared.
A terminal illness was destroying her from the inside out; her muscles, speech and breathing all waning. Everything except her mind. In that imprisoned space, she was still bright, beautiful and alive.
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