**********Skyler**********
I turned from Linnette’s deathbed, silent from grief. Roslyn walked over.
“You can write, can’t you?”
I nodded. I was a poet. I turn and hug Roslyn. Linnette’s pale face haunted my mind, her blue blouse covering her chest and Stanley sitting on the edge of the bed. The cancer had fought Linnette for years, and Linnette didn’t have much strength left in her. She just stopped fighting a week ago and was offered Hospice.
Roslyn Royel Ibbit, Ginger Gillim Tattinham, and I grew up with Linnette Birdie Close in Mill Haley. It was amazing how close we were, living within a block of each other. We were always there for each other, but now Linnette was gone.
We couldn’t let it end. We had to write.
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