I saw her as she got out of her car.
She crossed the lawn, a first in three years.
Dad called her, it seems, and told her about mom.

“I’m here,” she said, when she saw me in front of mom’s room.
“How is she?”
I glared at her, but did not say a thing.

“I want to see her,” she told me.
“You can’t,” I shot back.
“You can’t stop me,” and with that, she went in the room.

Mom was on the bed.
She saw her, and smiled.
“You’re back” Mom croaked.
“I am.”

Mom took her hand and gave it one weak squeeze.
“Thank you,” she said, and closed her eyes.
She broke free of her grasp.
“She’s… gone,” I said.

“I know,” she said.
And the bitch laughed.