It doesn't matter, after deciding somewhere deep inside to never stand on her own two feet again, that Florence hasn’t walked in months. We kept all her shoes.
Maybe, just maybe one day, after all the massages and physical therapy and coaxing, just maybe a breeze will come through the window cracked open just a tiny bit, dance around her and remind her of the outside wonderfulness she used to stride through.
And maybe, just maybe she’ll put her shoes on again and return to her own two feet.
Florence used to say denial wasn't to be sniffed at.
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