Helen pulls on her coat and leaves the auction without a computer she needed. She presses the buzzer at the door of the personal care facility where she shares a room with Phyllis, a double amputee. I really wanted that computer, she decides. The door opens to the commingled smells of urine and deodorizer.
Helen steps inside the entrance, walks by the plastic flowers, nods to the night nurse at the medicine cart, continues slowly down the darkened hallway. She pauses, thinking, sometimes it’s better not to know the future. She recalls her dream of Phyllis dying, braces herself, and quietly opens the door to her roommate’s raspy snores.
Helen steps inside the entrance, walks by the plastic flowers, nods to the night nurse at the medicine cart, continues slowly down the darkened hallway. She pauses, thinking, sometimes it’s better not to know the future. She recalls her dream of Phyllis dying, braces herself, and quietly opens the door to her roommate’s raspy snores.
