she looked like she wouldn't live all that many more years

i walked blue collared through the royal melbourne hospital and all of a sudden there she was. i had my trolley: i was working. she was lying in bed, fast asleep, seventy-five if she was a day, fast asleep and she'd spilt her hair too: grey and white and long it lay on the pillow, lay like spilt hair because it was. her face was caved in from sleep and toothlessness. next to it was a purple plush toy, snug in her crooked arm.

the toy was sleeping too: sleeping like a log in that both are inanimate, safe in her grip.

she looked like she wouldn't live all that many more years but she had a toy to cuddle and so i smiled. i was disarmed.