Thanks! It's crap generic beginning stuff, but feedback is ALWAYS useful.

Oh, and I backflung with a leetle explaynation.

So, Deb, re: that chunk of the novel I sent you. I'm assuming your current busyness has distracted you, and it's not a case of "My god, how do I tell her it sucks large donkey dong", that's kept you from responding.

Connie has superlative timing.

I say this because I have got rid of my writers group for the evening and just opened yours in another window.

Should have something for you shortly.

Then I'll peruse it in the morning, because I'm falling asleep at the keyboard. Night, all.

Night!

one at a time

From the cessation of breath to the onset of rigor mortis.

Taking notice, panic, action. Fear, assurances, realization.

Phone calls to the husbands, to the mortuary, to the preacher. Reservations to make, arrangements with the graveyard in Hawaii. The relatives must be told.

The insurance, Medicare, the will. What to do with the property.

Guilt, lies told to bring comfort, voices to be heard. Words to be said.

But for now, after the cessation of breath, I must change her stained gown for a clean one, before it is too difficult. As her body cools, one degree at a time.

Whuf, Liese. So many things to be done at a time like that. I remember going with my mother to buy a new shirt for my father when he died.

Damn, Liese.

Oh, yes. Yes indeed, Liese.

Dayum.