I rushed through the door, running late.

She was already there, sitting on the edge of the bed,

stroking the old lady’s hair with the back of her hand.

“You’re here,” I said breathlessly.

She nodded, head down, with a little half smile,

watching the old lady.

“She’s…”

“Sleeping, she’s just sleeping. She had some breakfast earlier and is doing alright.”

I sighed, dropping down on a chair, stuffing my car keys in my bag.

“So…”

She shook her head slowly back and forth; kept stroking the hair.

“I wondered….,” I started slowly, “could you tell me when I…”

“No!” She looked up and me and frowned.

“Well, I was just thinking…”

“Don’t think,” was the terse reply. “You’ve got a lot of nerve asking.”

“Oh….” I looked away, embarrassed. “Okay.”

“She’s had a good life,” she murmured. There was a slight rustling sound as she adjusted her wings.

“Oh, well, yes, of course. She has.”

The old lady’s eyes suddenly popped open and she stared open-mouthed at the young woman.

“It’s you,” she breathed and smiled.

The end