Life is a burden; death is sweet release.
From the mouth of some long dead poet, Mrs. Malto found comfort. Those words summed up her long life filled with more trials and tribulation, then peace and goodness.
She was confined, condemned, to die alone in this bed.
If only death with come and greet her-
A women with the aura of a saint, clad in all white, came in.
"Hello. Please, come in. Will you hold my hand?"
Mrs. Malto's IV tripped on, the warmth of the hand holding hers her final memory as she was taken to the King...