Object

Across the room on top of the old woman’s dresser, lined up carefully next to each other like soldiers at inspection, were three objects she looked at but rarely touched every day, sometimes several times a day if she was feeling particularly low or lost. Each reminded her in a different way that there had been shining moments in her moribund life, whole days, weeks even, when she’d been so grateful to be alive and exactly where she was that the only words in her soul’s vocabulary at those mo...