#65: Heft

When did this happen? Grace thinks to herself as Peter makes some sexual groaning sound. He was pulling himself out of bed. Sandwiched between the moans of pain and the scratching at the sheets, she heard his back pop. A small delicate sound.

At first, it seemed as if it was nothing. With a hand full of crumbled sheets, Peter attempted to lift himself up.

Grace lies propped up on one elbow watching her husband get older. And then the sound of an animal being torn apart screams itself into existence. Peter rears back in agonising pain and she just twists out of his way.

She rubs his writhing forehead. His face is turning red from holding his breath, as even that is causing him pain.

The ambos effortlessly lift him onto the gurney after having given him something for the pain. Grace packs a bag for him, and with each item she selects, she suddenly realises that one day, probably not too far away, she'll be packing a similar bag, to either take to a nursing home, or to the undertakers.

She lifted the bag up and felt the heft. Grace felt the weight of their relationship lift off her, as if she had also packed that deep in the bag, never to see the light of day again.