Marty got up to make a cup of tea. She stood shakily on her feet and shuffled slowly towards  the kitchen.

At 87, arthritis had wreaked havoc on her hand and knee joints. Marty winced, as she slowly prepared her brew. It was the sight, rather than the dull ache in her knuckles, that made her grimace. Gnarled beyond recognition, her fingers barely did as they were told; it was through sheer force of will she managed the smallest of tasks- like this tea, for example.

Not trusting herself with carrying her tea back across the room, Marty sank slowly into the plastic kitchen chair and sipped.

She was waiting, a knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten and loosen in rapid succession. Marty was waiting for her daughter, Monica, to pick her up. She would be moving into a nursing home today……..

 Finish the story in Tales in Teacups


Copyright Vivian Zems 2017