The diagnosis came, “It’s terminal,” the doctor said. The words hit hard, but deep inside, we knew. We had watched her fade after multiple surgeries to remove diseased parts. Braces could no longer support her weakened limbs; the loss of balance and stability, the decrease in body mass–a harbinger of things to come. The once-strong arms couldn’t provide the shelter and security of their younger days. Her presence had become a liability. Who knew when she might fall? Then what would we do? It was decided, she would spend her final days at the Laguna Beach Sawdust Art Festival.
Linking to Friday Fictioneers.
Click the link for more information about the 100-word-photo-prompt fiction stories. It’s open to everyone.