1786. Good Friday
© Bruce Goodman 10 April 2020
Tommy had sat for three days next to his wife’s bed. Sometimes he held her hand. Sometimes he dabbed her brow with a cool flannel. Her breathing was a little laboured. The liver cancer had hit fast, but these last three days of waiting were slow.|
She seemed to settle for the night; another long night.
And then the breathing changed.
And then a stillness came.
Tommy sat for an hour before phoning anyone.
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