The Touch

Lying face-down slowly to relieve the tingling pain in her back, she willed herself to sleep.

When she felt those oil-damped palms again weakly massaging from her shoulder down...

Her mother had staggered to her bedside.

Soothed, she buried her face deeper into the tear-stained pillow and drifted in that touch.
The best conversations with mothers always take place in silence, when only the heart speaks. ~C. Latet


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