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Unformatted text preview: ushed it all the way back, so that she could see into the open bathroom to the right. Porcelain toilet. Empty shower stall. Quickly, she examined the rest of the room, and then turned back to the bed, confident that she and her mother were alone. Her mother's profile bore a remarkable resemblance to that of her sister, Giffbrd, in the coffin. All points and angles, the emaciated face sunk into the large, softly yielding pillow. The covers made a mound over the body. All white except for a small irregular blotch of red in the very center of the covers, very near to where the hand lay with its tape and its tubing and needle. Mona drew closer, clamped her left hand on the chrome bar of the bed, and touched the red spot. Very wet. Even as she stared at it the blotch grew bigger. Something seeping up through the covers from below. Roughly Mona pulled the blanket down from under Alicia's limp arm. Her mother didn't stir. Her mother was dead. The blood was everywhere. The bed was soaked with it....
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10