The day my father died, was the day it started, they told me. That was the day my mother changed. Some said it was shock, and assured me it would fade away. She wasn’t suffering from depression, and not quite catatonia. When I arrived home I could see exactly what they meant. She moved like she was in a trance, quiet and listless. She slept a lot, and talked very little. She peered out the window for hours and listened to people speak, but what she was really seeing and hearing, no one could tell me. She didn’t seem to be...
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