I'm clasping a small bouquet of white roses wrapped tightly in white silkand tissue paper.I feel movement by my shoulders. That's easy to tell because...they arebare. I think that my shoulders and my neck are the only part of mebesides my fingers that don't have anything on them. The hands touchsomething resting lightly on my shoulders and then the haze is lifted. Ifeel something light and almost insubstantial go past my eyes and feel itbeing placed over the back of my head. It drapes back and. Midway through the week, she came to see me. She was dressed in a hot pink slip dress that looked like it was right off the pages of Fredrick of Hollywood. She looked amazing. ‘Come in sweetie, you look beautiful!’ I told her. I wanted to tell her so much more, but I couldn’t even begin to find the words. We talked about all of the things that aren’t important, and a few things that were. ‘How’s your painting going?’ she asked me. ‘I’d say I’m about half way through. And the pieces at the. More

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