It’s been a long time since she was able to hold her head up.
She knew every crack in the ceiling. Every shade of light on the walls. Every spider web.
They kept the latter undisturbed.
“Let them be,” she’d asked when the housekeeper had come in one day, armed with an upended broom. The matronly women had frowned only to have understanding effuse her face with something between pity and compassion.
“You keep ’em company, then,” the housekeeper had said.
Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda