I creep through the dark hollow cave like hall. I fasten my eyes to the scuffs and tears of my grimy soiled shoes and my mom’s dazzlingly bubble gum pink toe nails. Moans and wails echo down the dim hallway but I blanket my face with my dark river of hair. Lights flicker on and off as the buzzing sound rings through my head without an escape. Chills run down my spine and goose bumps erupt from the tender layer of my soft baby pink skin. I grasp the ice cold metal handle and glide open a crusted paint coated door. A shriveled prune like figure stares at me. She lies near the shadowy dim corner of the room only accompanied by a single wilted desiccated yellow rose drooping from the edge of a white plastic jar and a distant beaming sunlight shimmering through the foggy and murky glass window. In a blink of an eye, my mom bolts toward the shriveled human figure slouched on top of a snowy white bed. I tip toe towards the bed and the figure gazes directly into my eyes. The mounds of the crumpled and tattered white blankets mummify her petite body except for her squashed pale face covered in brown tiny spots. I lean my warm plump fingers to her face and an icy cold sensation zips through the tips of my fingers. Mountainous goose bumps burst on top of my hand and I swiftly jerk them away. I reach out once more but this time to her bony wrinkled hand dangling from the surface of the bed. I cringe as my fingertips brush upon her frosty hands. Her eyes form a vacant dark incessant cave. She stares at a distant and I look that way but only an old decayed wooden chestnut colored picture frame suspends on a crusted stale wall. Not a flinch or even a puff of air directs out of her. Then a single tear drop trickles down her crinkly furrowed face. My eyes amplify and my mom bursts out of her seat as the metal stool slams on to the cold stone ground. She wraps her arms around the diminutive fragile body. I lean my hand toward her face and mop the tear away. The tear drop feels warm against her frigid glacial idle body.
“Grandma” I whisper with a hush of breath but her hard plastic ear piece guards her from the voices of the outside world. Without even a single budge, she continues to gaze impassively to the vacant wall. My mother and I watch her inside the darkened bare room as she wilts away like the limp yellow rose inside the confined plastic vase.