Skin like parched earth, crackled, paper-thin. Hair like spun silver.
A full set of teeth, of which he is incredibly proud. A full set of teeth, not her own.
Rows of little plastic boxes, each full of pills.
The smell of ointment, of disinfectant, and of urine.
He cannot say what he wants to say.
She cannot remember.
All of it does not matter - the skin, the hair, the teeth, the never-ending boxes of medicine, the smell, the memories slipping away.
All that matters is that he cannot do maths. And she cannot manage the kitchen.
I am useless, they say, this man who wrote until he was 90, this woman who cooked until she was 80.
That is their greatest burden, these humans who worked themselves to the bone for nearly a century, that they have none left to bear.
A full set of teeth, of which he is incredibly proud. A full set of teeth, not her own.
Rows of little plastic boxes, each full of pills.
The smell of ointment, of disinfectant, and of urine.
He cannot say what he wants to say.
She cannot remember.
All of it does not matter - the skin, the hair, the teeth, the never-ending boxes of medicine, the smell, the memories slipping away.
All that matters is that he cannot do maths. And she cannot manage the kitchen.
I am useless, they say, this man who wrote until he was 90, this woman who cooked until she was 80.
That is their greatest burden, these humans who worked themselves to the bone for nearly a century, that they have none left to bear.
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