By Lisa Rabey
It was when I visited I knew, knew, things were going to happen that very day. I looked at you in your club chair, a blanket tucked around you like a child, while the tea cooled and biscuits crumbled on the table next to you. Your right hand, which held a book, sagged towards the floor. A snore eventually popped out of your mouth. You had fallen into a deep sleep, unaware of the world around you.
I brushed a stray lock from your face and delicately kissed your warm, smooth forehead. I knew then exactly what needed to be done.
Very moving in such few words.