The Pale Letter
The doctor’s voice was thin, stretched over the crackle of the radio in the hall. "Your lungs are failing, Mrs. Halloway. The infection is deep. We must move you to the ward. It is the only way." Margaret did not answer. She sat in the high-backed chair by the window, her hands folded in her lap. They were red and swollen, the knuckles white, the skin tight as drumheads. The house was cold. It...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews