The Distant Journey

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 00:26:27 -

The rain tapped against the glass. A steady, rhythmic drumming. I sat by the window. My mother slept in the chair beside me. Her breathing was shallow. Thin. Like the last leaves falling from the oak tree in our old garden. The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and stale flowers. It was a smell that clung to the skin. To the clothes. It was the scent of endings. I held her hand. It was cold....

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