Countdown

1 as in the number of times I went into shock

I was fine. I was telling my mother how beautiful her dress was. I was looking at her hands, with chipped nail polish on her nails. She had been rejecting her looks. She always believed that no matter what, looking good should at least be second priority. I guess, when you had a dying son,… Continue reading 1 as in the number of times I went into shock