2005-01-23 archive

Confession

Jake was dying. His wife, Becky, was maintaining a vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand in the weak light, tears running down her face. Her praying woke him from his slumber. He looked up, pale lips moving slightly. “Becky my darling,” he whispered. “Hush my love,” she said. “Rest, don”t talk.” He …

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