Old Cardigan

Near the end, she was always cold. Her body fought so hard to keep her breathing; it had no energy left to keep her warm. Her last days were spent wearing her favourite cardigan and under mountains of blankets. A cold rot had taken root inside her, she told us. And with blinds open, she chased the sun around the room with her eyes, turning her face toward it. We would have moved her bed into its warmth if we could have. Now, as I write this, her cardigan is draped over my chair just in case the weather turns.

Inspired by Be In the Sun. Image by Bing.