………….

It’s there again Mumma’.

I made my way to the window, where my darling daughter sat, propped upon soft pillows and blanket. I’d pulled her bed under the window so she could watch the world go by. Her frail frame pressed against the sill, I stopped myself from gasping, each day she deteriorated a little more. Catching a choked sob before it escaped, I knelt beside her at the window, my eyes down cast to the floor. ‘

Is it the same one’? I said concealing my dread.

‘Yes Mumma, you must see it too. It won’t play with me until you see it. Why can’t you see it?’ pleaded her wondrous little voice.

I couldn’t see that retched duck, because I didn’t want to. Because I knew what it meant. I hated that duck more than anything. Tilly tugged on my sleeve, “Please Mumma, please look at the duck”…