Alzheimer

Alzheimer



She was beautiful. Shiny white skin, with the tone of a thousand sunsets in heaven, had lost its days and dived into the dawn. Her eyes, once green and bright as the moon, were now owners of an empty look through the dusty window. The hair of a goddess was growing no more from her head and warning spots were rising through her cheeks and neck. Her lips, once fleshy and red, the perfect image of sensuality, were now dry and opened, losing words to the ground.
"I remember...", she muttered smoothly, with a voice dragged by time.
"what do you remember?", he asked, with tears begining, growing and ending in his insides.
"...fearing...", she continued, not listening.
"To fear what, mother?"
"...to forget...". Her eyes shake a little, but the same expression of death was craved in her face. "...how to remember.", she concluded.
"I know...", he whispered kindly, holding her hand, perhaps for the last time.
"But you know?...", she suddenly asked, without breaking eye contact with the outside.
"Yes?", he asked, just for the sake of asking, disproved of any kind of hope.
"I remember...", she repeated.