A rusted bell rattled and clapped deep inside the kitchen phone. Sabina gave Mother a look, stood up, and stepped in. It was Dr. Aikenson. Sabina leaned against the wall, twirling her right index finger around and in through the long, yellow-stained cord. Aikenson proceeded with his prognosis: “I’m afraid that…”
Unbeknownst to us these narratives took hold over and paralyzed our environs.
Ronnie has long-developed a tuning out. “Doesn’t she know they’ve had this coming?” he thought. “Death comes to all things.”