Bright eyes twinkling in the light, so rich a harvest of new sensation. The first tentative steps, reaching out across a tightrope toward fresh pleasure. And then the pull of gravity as knees buckle beneath. A fall from grace.
Dull eyes dimmed in rheum, a sleepy hand lifted. White haired and frail, to disappear softly into the night. The last tentative steps, framed in slow-motion as she moves to eat. And then peace descends in the pink flowered walls that hold her safe once more. Still, a hand of grace.
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