The face was there, but the rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes were absent, absconded along with ready smile and gleeful giggles, lost in memories.
She wore civvies, not the nun’s habit she had hiked up a little to play football with us as children.
The coffin also took her voice.
Perry McDaid is a writer of prose and poetry who has developed a taste for pastels. They’re a tad chalky but provide roughage.
Beautiful! Loved all of it, especially the second paragraph. Very well done!
Perry, you tear at our heartstrings with precision and elegance.
When I see a loved one in a coffin, it always feels like the body isn’t real- that this is not who she/he was. Your story thoughtfully expresses that emotion. Nice work.
Thank you all. It’s gratifying that my little stories are so appreciated.