Emily laid the picture over her lap. “What’s this?”
“Paris! Isn’t it lovely?” Emily traced the eiffel tower with a trembling hand.
“It’s yours?”
Jenna motioned towards Emily’s wall, a homage to landscapes and skylines all over the world she wished to visit. “Yours.”
“You think I’ll really see it one day?” In her years of nursing, Jenna had never met a child as determined as Emily.
“I really do.” Emily nodded her approval as she yawned.
“I’ll dream about it first.” Emily sank into her bed. A mess of hair peeked from underneath her blankets.
Slowly, she slipped away.
Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers
Dreaming about it first is often how you end up getting there
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Very true, thanks Neil!
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The present situation has made those dreams all the more precious.
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It definitely has. Thanks Iain
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“Slipped away.” Could mean she died peacefully; or that she’s going to get a reviving sleep. My gut tells me it’s the former.
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There are different meanings to it and I think it might depend on the reader. Thank you for commenting!
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That’s sweet. I hope she makes it. Shit, I hope I make it. That is if she slipped into sleep. Though, as Linda said, I have a feeling that might not be.
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I hope you make it too and I hope I make it. Thanks for the comment!
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