My chest pounded as I stared at the bed. There lay floral sheets, closed eyes, and my mother’s frail fingers still warm in my hand.

“Let go,” she had said.

“No,” I had told her.

When the fingers grew cold I heard her voice again. That’s when I let go.

Gwendolyn Jacob is rediscovering her fictional roots and has several works in progress.

7 thoughts on “GWENDOLYN JACOB: Surrender

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