The Exit
“Not a feeling, an absence. Rose had enjoyed a few lengthy periods of lucidity recently, but this one was the best. She’d been at her desk for an hour, and she really felt like writing something new. That morning, she’d begged Gabriella to let her out of her room so she could use the computer in the activity room. With Gabriella keeping a ridiculously close eye on her, she searched sites and read posts in forums from people like her, or from carers of people like her. After being locked back in ...her room, she’d sat at her desk and tried to write about it. Her latest attempts at children’s books were laughable. Perhaps she should start a blog. Tales of the demented! Good one. The pen was in her hand, but nothing was coming. She just couldn’t describe it. It was . . . She tried to think of something to compare it to, some feelings related to things she’d been through.Not Margie’s death, that was vivid as all hell. Not the news that her father was missing in action, which came two months after her mother collected her – and Margie’s body – from the farm.MoreLess
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