He filled the teakettle with water and put it on a cold burner. He got a teacup and put one of Gramma’s special herb tea bags into it. In case she should wake up and want a cup. He hoped like mad that she wouldn’t, because then he would have to crank up the hospital bed and sit next to her and give her the tea a sip at a time, watching the toothless mouth fold itself over the rim of the cup, and listen to the slurping sounds as she took the tea into her dank, dying guts.
