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Description
Where Does the Love Last?

   Floral, typical night gown dripping with out-of-date flowers.  Her shaking hands rested on the  sink, slipping leading to a slim shaking body, the skin was starving for fat, but food wasn't supplied for fulfillment of such a desire.  Greying twines of twisted hair stuck out of her head like a nest.  Cracks without pattern lined her face, representing age not bothered to cover up.  Huge feet falling forward, knees bending forward, floral gown spreads, and the flowers on it drown in her judgement.  I died to hear my mother had.
The first time I knew was about an hour later.  I called her at home.  She always picked up after three rings.
   Ring.
   Riiiiing.
   Ring.
   "Hi mom"
   Ring. What? No, she just fell...one the way to the phone.
   Ring.
   Ring. Oh, no.  No!  This wasn't possible.  She promised.  She promised she wouldn't.  She loved me.  I had taken it so personally.  I breathed in the years of yoga experience, let out choked pathetic tears.  I raised a shaking hand, pointing my index finger at the sky.  I opened the back door of the taxi and sobbed the address to the driver.  He dutifully looked forward, and bit his lip.  He saw me in the rearview window, my phone in my lap, my mind somewhere else.
   He was used to it, I thought.  Unlike many drivers I had seen, he drove carefully while we whipped past buildings and had a sympathetic stare.  His brows were close to each other, forming wrinkles between them, above deep, wide, brown eyes.  "P-please stop here...here." I shoved bills at him.  "Keep the change.  Thank-thank you."  I stumbled out of the cab, a mess as my mother was when I came to the twelfth floor, and saw her collapsed, ethereal corpse on the tiles in the bathroom.  "Oh mommy you promised.  Y-you promised." I whispered. "You promised your little Lexi," I choked on my words.  She was gone.  I dialed 911, barely pushing hard enough.  When I was done, I called Maxwell.
   "M-max, honey, my mother, my mother," I didn't need to say anymore.
   "I'll come over if you want," He said.
   "You don't have to.  I-I just need to tell someone."
   "Did you call anyone else?"
   "Only the police,"
   "You should tell Linda, too.  When you're ready."
   "Y-yes when I'm ready I'll call her, yeah okay."
   Hearing the panic in her voice, he reassured her, "Listen, Lexietha.  You're the strongest person I know.  I am here if you need me."
   "Thanks Max, I'll call you later."
   "Okay." click.
   "Mom, I respect the choice you made.  I respect the choice you made..." I repeated that until the police came.  And all throughout the funeral.  And whenever I thought about it.  I felt like a child again when she passed away.

Description
Where Does the Love Last?

   Floral, typical night gown dripping with out-of-date flowers.  Her shaking hands rested on the  sink, slipping leading to a slim shaking body, the skin was starving for fat, but food wasn't supplied for fulfillment of such a desire.  Greying twines of twisted hair stuck out of her head like a nest.  Cracks without pattern lined her face, representing age not bothered to cover up.  Huge feet falling forward, knees bending forward, floral gown spreads, and the flowers on it drown in her judgement.  I died to hear my mother had.
The first time I knew was about an hour later.  I called her at home.  She always picked up after three rings.
   Ring.
   Riiiiing.
   Ring.
   "Hi mom"
   Ring. What? No, she just fell...one the way to the phone.
   Ring.
   Ring. Oh, no.  No!  This wasn't possible.  She promised.  She promised she wouldn't.  She loved me.  I had taken it so personally.  I breathed in the years of yoga experience, let out choked pathetic tears.  I raised a shaking hand, pointing my index finger at the sky.  I opened the back door of the taxi and sobbed the address to the driver.  He dutifully looked forward, and bit his lip.  He saw me in the rearview window, my phone in my lap, my mind somewhere else.
   He was used to it, I thought.  Unlike many drivers I had seen, he drove carefully while we whipped past buildings and had a sympathetic stare.  His brows were close to each other, forming wrinkles between them, above deep, wide, brown eyes.  "P-please stop here...here." I shoved bills at him.  "Keep the change.  Thank-thank you."  I stumbled out of the cab, a mess as my mother was when I came to the twelfth floor, and saw her collapsed, ethereal corpse on the tiles in the bathroom.  "Oh mommy you promised.  Y-you promised." I whispered. "You promised your little Lexi," I choked on my words.  She was gone.  I dialed 911, barely pushing hard enough.  When I was done, I called Maxwell.
   "M-max, honey, my mother, my mother," I didn't need to say anymore.
   "I'll come over if you want," He said.
   "You don't have to.  I-I just need to tell someone."
   "Did you call anyone else?"
   "Only the police,"
   "You should tell Linda, too.  When you're ready."
   "Y-yes when I'm ready I'll call her, yeah okay."
   Hearing the panic in her voice, he reassured her, "Listen, Lexietha.  You're the strongest person I know.  I am here if you need me."
   "Thanks Max, I'll call you later."
   "Okay." click.
   "Mom, I respect the choice you made.  I respect the choice you made..." I repeated that until the police came.  And all throughout the funeral.  And whenever I thought about it.  I felt like a child again when she passed away.