Brown skin gone pale. Mouth open, eyes shut. A phone call. A car ride. A hospital. A bed. A man. A grandpa. A life. A death. He died tired. Now, I can't sleep.
Goodnight, Grandpa
A micro-memoir on loss, in fewer than 40 words
A micro-memoir on loss, in fewer than 40 words
Brown skin gone pale. Mouth open, eyes shut. A phone call. A car ride. A hospital. A bed. A man. A grandpa. A life. A death. He died tired. Now, I can't sleep.
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