Departure

Don't take him away.
I know we asked you to, I know its what you have to do. Serious lady and thin man in black.
Sister fusses with the buttons on the bright blue pyjama top. A few more seconds, a few more seconds.

Small conversation. They have to slide him across the bed. They have a dark blue sheet they want to use. I can't be just a witness any longer, I have to do something. I help with the sheet. Or are these just my few more seconds. Bound in dark blue.

Support the head when lifting.
On the stretcher. The zip is closing. Sister kisses. Seeking contact.
"Do you need to touch?"
"No. I think I've said my goodbyes earlier."
The zip is nearly closed.
"Wait."
Fleeting hand on cheek. One more second.

I take the head end of the the stretcher and thin man takes the other end. We wheel it out into the bright mid day sunshine, to the polished and neat silver van.

And so it goes.

Max

I hung up Max's lead and choker this morning on the hook by the back door where it had hung unused since the Christmas before last.
When I first found it a month or so ago it was dirty and the metal was rusty. The lead is now clean again and the rust has disappeared from the chain, just through use.
Can't help thinking that it may not get used again.

The sound of concrete cutting

The sound of concrete cutting came from across the road, light shone through the lace curtains. I sat in the quiet bedroom, no living soul beside me.
The faint shadow patterns moved across the cream coloured quilt and sometimes gave the impression of a chest rising and falling in gentle sleep. But it was not so, all was still and peaceful.
There were no tears.
Not immediately.