i'm afraid to breathe in case i break the spell

Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.

When did I stop being me?

I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.

I had my whole life planned.. I knew exactly where it was taking me.

They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.

I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in the hallway in wheelchairs makes me long for death. Particularly when I rememver that I'm one of the ancient dusty people, filed away like some worthless tchotchke.